


Impossible Miracle

by Dementadoom



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Kidnapping, Much angst and romance amidst the trauma, Nurturing Leo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Rape Recovery, Raph as Protector, Turtles to the Rescue, Unexpected Complications, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 71
Words: 113,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementadoom/pseuds/Dementadoom
Summary: Donatello is left ravaged and deeply scarred after being kidnapped by the Purple Dragons, and the only one who truly knows what happened to him is April. As they struggle with what happened to them, their relationship begins to deepen and change into something more - even as a new malignant threat arises to destroy the Turtles.





	1. Prologue

He couldn’t move his body.

No matter how hard he tried, his muscles barely responded to his will. The injections they kept giving him left him barely able to move — he could occasionally force his arms to do something like grip the metal bars or push against the floor. Not with any real strength, but he could do it.

But his legs were all but useless, and he hadn’t been able to move his head properly for hours. Whenever he tried, a tremble passed through his body, almost like a small seizure, making him gasp for breath but not allowing him to actually move.

And every time he started to regain some control over his limbs, every time he began to feel his strength coming back, they came in with their needles and injected him with more. And once he was paralyzed again, they could do what they wanted to him without fear of reprisals. They seemed to enjoy that most of all — knowing that he couldn’t respond.

The worst part was that even though his body was immobile, he could still feel everything. Everything they had done to him. Every painful, horrifying second — all of it was burned into his mind as if they had branded him.

And now they had April.

His breath came in rough gasps as he tried to tense his arms against the rough cinder-block wall, to push himself forward enough to crawl or drag himself. He could barely see them at the other end of the cell, but he knew that they had her — and the idea of them trying to do anything to her filled him with rage. If they hurt her — if they put one hand on her — he would find a way to rise just to make them regret it.

Then suddenly she was in front of him, walking unsteadily across the cell on her bare feet. He felt a rush of relief at the sight of her, apparently unhurt and untouched.

But then he saw her face. She was sad... no, she was frightened.

She dropped down to her knees, and leaned close to his face so that he could hear her whisper. “I’m so sorry, Don,” she said tearfully.


	2. Two Days Earlier

“Could you pass me the wrench?”

April rooted around in the toolbox, and frowned at what she saw. “Open-end or socket?”

“Open-ended would be best,” Donatello said from under a tangle of pipes and wires. The guts of the furnace were spread out across his legs and feet, along with little boxes and components that April didn’t recognize, and she was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to put it back where it was supposed to be.

She handed him the wrench. “I feel bad about you doing this,” she said.

“I don’t mind,” Don said, smiling at her.

Somehow the fact that he was telling the truth made April feel even more guilty. He looked at her with the same warm, soft eyes that she had always seen in him — well, when he wasn’t locked in combat with someone. He always lifted her spirits, and his earnest, quiet friendliness towards her never seemed to wane or waver, no matter how inconvenient she sometimes was.

“It’s just that you have so many projects of your own to work on,” April said, drawing her knees up to her chin and watching as he deftly twisted the wires into an unidentifiable part, his three-fingered hands moving swiftly and smoothly despite his attention being on her. “It feels wrong of me to have you playing handyman just because my furnace is broken.”

“It’s not a problem,” Don said, his hands not slowing in their motion. “I like some simple work sometimes. Besides, I do most of the handyman work in the lair, so this is nothing new for me.”

“You don’t get enough appreciation for what you do, Don,” April said.

He shrugged, as if it were something that he didn’t mind one way or the other. More than any other person April had ever met, Don was the one who seemed to crave recognition the least — he appreciated being thanked or praised for his works of genius, but he never seemed motivated by it. April wished that she could be motivated entirely by the joy of her scientific prowess, without ever considering what others thought.

Don bowed back over the pipes and began fitting them back together. The tails of his purple mask slipped forward, over one green shoulder, as he lost himself in the task he was working on. “Screwdriver, please,” he said, holding out his hand without looking up.

“Phillips or regular?” April asked.

“Phillips.”

She placed the screwdriver in his hand, noticing that his face had scrunched slightly in concentration as he worked — a stark contrast to the breezy casualness he had displayed a few minutes ago. His dark eyes roamed over the pieces of the furnace like a detective searching for clues, and his hands followed, dancing over the pieces in search of something to answer his questions.

“I think I found it,” he said abruptly, his hands darting among the wires connected to a large circuit board. “Yes, it’s this one.”

“It looks all right to me,” April said.

“Trust me, this is the culprit,” Don said confidently. “I have something that should replace it easily, though you should probably get a professional to look it over, just in case.”

April nodded, though she knew she probably wouldn’t. Donatello was the smartest person she had ever known, and she doubted anyone would ever take that distinction from him. She didn’t know how to tell him, but she was always amazed by the things that he was able to whip together. He lived in sewers and got by on the technology he was able to scavenge from the world above, yet he consistently churned out devices that astounded her. From his own cell network to floating vehicles, technological marvels seemed to spring whole from his hands whenever he chose.

And all this learning, all this knowledge was self-taught. He had never spent a single day in a classroom, which for most people would indicate severe ignorance. But he had not only educated himself beyond whatever basics Splinter had taught his sons, he had surpassed most of the scientists she had ever met, becoming adept in different fields of study through his own efforts and his boundless curiosity.

At times she wondered if his brothers realized just how lucky they were to have Don. Not just his technical skills, but the humble generosity that led him to make things like the Turtle Tunneler, the Sewer Slider or the Shell Cells without expectation of praise or reward.

“Pass me the green wire, please — the long one on top,” Don said.

April did as he said, feeling a burst of relief that Don didn’t know what she had just been thinking. It probably would have embarrassed him — and it certainly would have embarrassed her.

The basement door swung open with a squeak. “April!” Mikey sang out. “I think the pizza guy is pulling up out front.”

April sprang to her feet. “Coming!” she called up the stairs. Then she swung around towards Don. “Should I bring some down for you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Don said. “I’ll be done in just a few minutes. I’ll join you then.”

The pizza guy was ringing the doorbell as April emerged from the basement, a pimply weedy teenager who blushed when she tipped him. As she emerged from the stairs into her apartment, she found three very hungry teenage mutant Turtles waiting for her there — Raphael and Michelangelo sprawled on her couch, Leonardo leaning against the wall and trying not to look as hungry as he did.

“Time to eat, boys,” she said, placing the four pizza boxes on the table.

Don appeared just then, almost as if he had popped out of the basement at the scent of pizza. He was wiping grease stains from his fingers, and his eyes were wide. 

“Great timing, Don,” Mikey said, diving into the nearest pizza box. “You got here just in time for pizza and the movie.”

“Speaking of the movie, we’d better start it,” April said, picking up the green box sitting beside her DVD player. 

Raphael was almost done with his first slice of pizza when a thought seemed to strike him. “Hey, April. When’s Casey coming by? He’s gonna miss the movie.”

A shadow passed over April’s eyes, and she quickly turned her attention back to the meat-lovers’ pizza that Donnie was extracting a slice from. “Casey… he’s not coming by tonight,” she said, keeping a chipper tone in her voice. “Anyone want parmesan?”

“I do!” Mikey spoke up.

“Huh?” Raph’s brow crinkled as he sat up straighter. “Why not? He loves movie night.”

“I… we thought it might be a little awkward.”

“Awkward? How come?”

April sighed, and brushed a strand of red hair out of her eyes. Raph had an ability to fixate on a target that a hunting dog would have envied, and his blunt manner of speech tended to make it even more uncomfortable for whomever was the unwilling focus of his questions. She had been hoping that he wouldn’t have noticed his best friend’s absence, but perhaps it was too much to ask for.

She looked up uncomfortably, her eyes skimming from one Turtle’s face to the next. Raph was staring at her intently, clearly not planning to drop this until he got an answer.

“Casey and I… we’ve broken up,” she said at last.

Silence fell over the room, even from Mikey. Leo twisted around in his seat, looking startled. When April turned back to the pizza to get herself a slice, she found that even Don was staring at her with a peculiar expression, almost as if he had a stomachache.

“Broken up?” Raph said at last. “Why?”

“It wasn’t — it’s not a nasty breakup, or even necessarily a permanent one,” April said, squirming a little as she felt their eyes focused on her. “We just decided we needed some time apart to think about things.”

“Like?” Raph pushed.

“Raph, April doesn’t need to justify her decisions to us,” Leo interjected. “If she broke up with Casey, there must be a good reason.”

“But Casey is—“ Raph began to protest.

“It’s okay, Leo,” April said quickly. “I don’t mind. We just… it wasn’t anything in particular. We didn’t have a fight or anything like that. We just… don’t have a lot in common, and I started wondering if we had enough to sustain a relationship. There are huge parts of my interests — science and technology — that I just can’t talk to him about because they mean nothing to him. And there are… things he’s passionate about that don’t strike a chord with me, like hockey.”

Raph started to answer her, but Leo quickly said, “And we should respect April’s reasons, especially since none of us have experience in that area and thus don’t have any authority to criticize.”

April felt a burst of gratitude to the blue-masked Turtle’s intervention, heading Raph off before he blurted out something he would regret later. This, she reflected, was why she hadn’t wanted to mention Casey to them — she was worried that Raph would be upset by the absence of his friend. He would cool down later, she knew, but she hated the idea of the movie night being ruined for him and his brothers because of her breakup.

“The furnace should be working fine now,” Don said, diplomatically breaking through the quiet. “I replaced the defective wire and tightened up some of the parts. You’ll need to replace that air filter soon, though.”

“Thanks, Don,” April said, smiling. “You’re a lifesaver.”

She leaned towards him and gently pressed her lips against his cheek, a warm breath escaping her as she did so. She didn’t see his eyes widen slightly at the touch.

“Can we get to the movie already?” Mikey called out.


	3. Finally Woken

Don settled into the couch, a pizza box settled on the coffee table in front of his knees, with Leo sitting on one side of him and April on the other. Warm contentment flowed over him as he relaxed, waiting for the movie to start.

These movie nights had started when Leo learned that April had never seen the historical films of Akira Kurosawa, and wanted to remedy that immediately. The four Turtles had come over with Leo’s copy of _Rashomon_ and April had ordered pizza, and they had spent the evening glued to the old movie. Well, most of them had — Mikey would have preferred Rashomon if it had involved alien space bugs instead of an ambiguous murder.

They had had so much fun that night that it soon became a regular event — the Turtles, Casey or April would provide a movie, and they would feast on pizza while they watched something new to them. Leo’s favorites had soon been exhausted, and they had moved on to a colorful variety of films, including some of Mikey’s gory sci-fi. 

On this particular evening, the choice had been _The Fellowship of the Ring._ Don had heard good things about it, but unlike most people, he hadn’t been able to simply go to a theater and buy a ticket.

He turned to April. “Have you seen this movie, April?”

April yawned, quickly hiding her mouth behind her hand. 

“I saw the theatrical cut,” she said. “They say the extended cut is really different, so I’m looking forward to seeing what’s in there.”

“You look tired,” Don said, concerned.

“I just had a late night doing some cleaning,” she said, waving off his concern. “It’s no big deal.”

“Quiet, this part is important,” Mikey said, twisting around.

Don fell silent at his brother’s urging, focusing all his attention on absorbing the movie’s introduction and all the important backstory it held. The one downside of movie night was that four seventeen-year-old boys — plus Casey, when he was there — could get a little rowdy, which made it difficult to follow more complicated stories.

For the next hour, the Turtles remained glued to the TV screen, each in his own way — Raph and Mikey loudly rooted for the characters during the fight scenes, Leo seemed to be caught up by the elves and Rivendell, and Don simply enjoyed the unfolding story. He was enjoying the movie, although sometimes the running commentary from his brothers made it a little hard to hear the dialogue.

But around the halfway mark, Don suddenly felt something warm and solid rest against his shoulder. At first he squirmed a little, not thinking about what that weight might be. But then he looked down, and his eyes widened slightly at what he saw.

April was fast asleep. Her head was tilted toward him, resting on his broad shoulder as if on a pillow, and her pale cheek was pressed against his green skin. Her eyelids were tightly shut, as if she were trying to block out the world around her, but her mouth still looked relaxed and almost curved in a smile. 

For a moment, he was too surprised to react. Then he smiled slightly, and settled back against the cushions, letting April sink deeper against his shoulder. She must have been pretty tired, he reflected, to fall asleep in the middle of an action movie. It was probably better to let her rest than to wake her so she didn’t miss anything. And if he moved again, he might wake her…

As he looked down at her, April murmured something and nestled deeper against him, her face moving closer to his throat, her body molding softly against his frame. A tendril of red hair slipped down the side of her face, brushing against his bicep. He was tempted to brush it back out of her face, but he hesitated as she moved again, her hand trailing along his plastron, leaving streams of warmth radiating through his chest.

His smile began to fade, and a sadness crept into his eyes as he looked down at her sleeping face. Gently he raised an arm to steady her, as she dreamed on through the clash of swords.

 

April only realized that she had fallen asleep when she finally woke, drowsily roused by the sounds of the movie — the clashing of swords, the swelling orchestral score, the sound of Raph and Mikey cheering on the main characters. A small smile crossed her lips. It sounded like they were enjoying themselves, despite the prior awkwardness.

Her head was resting against something slightly warm, very smooth, and firm against her cheek. Still half-asleep, she nestled against it, wishing it were a little softer. Her head slipped slightly, moving against something solid, and she smelled a familiar, warm scent that seemed to be everywhere around her…

“April,” a soft voice said in her ear. “April, wake up.”

April’s eyelids fluttered as she unwillingly did as the voice commanded. Her hand slipped up to rest against the surface against her cheek, and was rewarded by something warm and solid wrapping around her. It drew a smile from her lips. She felt good — she felt secure and warm — she felt something brushing against her cheek, caressing it…

“April, wake up.”

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and started to sit up, but found that she couldn’t. Then her eyes widened as she realized that the solid surface against her cheek was a broad green shoulder, and her face was pressed up against a throat. A muscular arm was stretched around her body, holding her steady so she didn’t simply slip down onto his lap, and the other hand was resting against her cheek. 

Don was looking at her with his dark, soft eyes, and smiling a little. “You fell asleep about halfway through the movie,” he said amiably. “I didn’t want to wake you, but it’s almost over now, so…”

“I’m sorry, Don,” April said, feeling her cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean to use you as a pillow.”

Don gently let her go, uncurling his arm from her shoulders, and April removed her hand from his chest and her face from his shoulder. She felt a little chilly as she scooted down the sofa from him — but then again, she shouldn’t have been cuddling him in the first place, she told herself sternly. 

For his part, Donnie didn’t seem embarrassed by what had happened. He simply stretched his arms over his head, letting the kinks in his muscles slide out now that he was no longer cradling a sleeping woman. April felt her blush deepen at the idea, and privately vowed that in future, she would sit on a chair by herself when watching movies with the boys.

“Okay, what did I miss?” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Well, almost all the fight scenes, the glowy elf lady, Gandalf fell off a cliff, and Boromir just died,” Mikey said cheerfully. “It was gruesome.”

“Aw, I was hoping he’d make it,” April said, disappointed.

“Sorry, April. He died in the book, too,” Leo spoke up.

As the credits began rolling, Raph stood up and yawned. “What time is it?” he said.

“Almost eleven,” April said. “Too late to start the next movie in the trilogy.”

“But it doesn’t even really end,” Mikey protested. “It just stops, and we have to see the next one to find out what happens.”

“Tell you what,” April said fondly, patting him on the head. “In a week we’ll get back together and watch the next movie, and pig out on pizza again. Will that make you happy?”

Her answer was four eager smiles across four green faces, and a glance between them that forged an unspoken agreement. In her time with the Turtles, she had learned that they were pretty easy to keep satisfied. They were more or less completely happy as long as they were well-fed and kept entertained, whether it was though TV, play or martial arts practice. Even Leo, arguably the most mature of the four, was a sucker for pizza and movies.

She was also relieved that Raph seemed to have gotten over his prior irritation with her over Casey, as there was no hostility in his gaze now. Apparently watching the movie had evened out his mood… or perhaps he had just taken Leo’s words to heart.

“… or we could just pump Leo to find out what happens in the next book,” Raph was saying with a wicked smile.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Leo responded with a smirk, gathering up the discarded soda pop cups cluttering the floor. “I’m not telling you what happens next.”

April bent down and picked up one of the discarded pizza boxes, which Michelangelo had been sitting on. Her apartment was usually fairly tidy, but it tended to get messy whenever the Turtles were there for a considerable period of time — after all, she reflected, they were four seventeen-year-old boys who lived in a sewer. Fortunately they — and by “they,” she meant Leo and Don — tended to clean up before they left, and often corralled Mikey and Raph into pulling their weight as well.

But her eyes drew back to Don, who had been sitting silently on the couch all this time, his fingers playing with the tails of his mask, as if he were lost in thought. 

“You okay, Don?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

He blinked and looked up at her. “Hmm? What? Oh yeah, just thinking,” the Turtle said. 

“What about?”

“The Sentinel robots,” he sighed. “There are some kinks in the programming that I just can’t seem to work out.”

April touched his shoulder lightly, without thinking. But her earlier behavior flashed through her mind as she felt his muscles tense slightly, and he looked up at her with a strange, almost sad expression on his face.

“Why don’t you bring them over to my place?” she said, quickly removing her hand. “A fresh pair of eyes might help you finish the robots.”

Don looked almost shy. “If it isn’t any trouble…”

“Don, since when has working with you been ‘trouble’?” April said, smiling. “Just bring them over tomorrow, and we’ll work on them together.”

He smiled crookedly, his eyes softening slightly — or maybe that was just the dim light. “I’d like that.”


	4. On The Way Home

Rain pattered on the roof of the Battle Shell and trickled down the windshield, before being swept away by the wipers. Donatello squinted out into the street, wishing the headlights were a little brighter so he could see where he was going. Maybe he’d tinker with them tomorrow… see if he could make them emit just a little more light.

“You really loved that, didn’t you, Don?”

“Hmm?” Don said, breaking out of his thoughts. “What?”

“April falling asleep on you,” Mikey said with a wide, devilish grin. 

“Well, she seemed pretty comfortable. I didn’t mind her using me as a pillow—”

“Don’t lie. I saw your face.”

“Enough teasing the driver,” Leo commanded, with the air of one who must be obeyed.

“But Leo, did you see them?” Mikey protested. “Donnie looked like he won the lottery, and April was all cuddly with him—“

Don pointedly tuned his little brother out, focusing his attention instead on the streets he had to drive through to get home. They were almost there — just a few more minutes and they would reach the old warehouse above their home, and return to their underground lair for the night.

But try as he might, he couldn’t get that nagging thought out of his head. The truth was, Mikey was right. He had enjoyed the contact with April — she hadn’t just leaned on him as she slept, she had practically draped herself over the left side of his body, her own body molding against him as she relaxed. Whatever dreams she had had were peaceful, judging by the serenity of her face and the occasional contented murmur. Not wanting to wake her, he had moved his hand to her waist to keep her steady, and then had settled in to watch the movie.

However, guilt had set in about three-quarters of the way through the movie — the underlying feeling that he was letting April do something she would later be embarrassed by, just for his own pleasure. He tried to tell himself that it was nothing, that April wouldn’t mind when she woke up. But he didn’t believe it.

So as the movie was wrapping up, he had tried to wake her up… only for her to start caressing his chest and nuzzling at his throat. And sniffing him. For some reason, she had sniffed him. Wrapping an arm around her to keep her from sliding down into his lap — something that would embarrass her even more — he had finally managed to wake her up.

Don sighed. He just hoped his later conversations about the Sentinel robots — which really were malfunctioning — would keep things from becoming awkward between them.

“No judgement, okay?” Mikey said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I mean, if a girl who looked like April fell asleep on me, I’d enjoy it. She probably wouldn’t when she woke up and saw a giant talking turtle, but I’d like it.”

“Mikey, it’s not a big deal to me,” Don said, considering whether crashing the Battle Shell into a wall would shut Mikey up. 

He focused his mind on driving and not on Mikey’s prattle, keeping his eyes on the rainy street ahead. The water streaming over the windshield was more intense than ever, making it hard for him to see what was in front of him. He turned up the windshield wipers and leaned in over the wheel, squinting out into the dark street.

Fortunately, the streets around their home didn’t tend to be too occupied this time of night, except by the sort of people who would probably avoid the Turtles if at all possible. The Purple Dragons might have been a nuisance if they were on foot, but the street gang tended to avoid the armored truck, as it made it too easy for the Turtles to defend themselves without being exposed.

He squinted again, leaning forwards in his seat. And then something appeared in front of him — a tall wavering figure standing in the middle of the road.

His eyes widened and his foot desperately slammed on the brakes, causing the massive Battle Shell to lurch forward, slipping on the wet street, then slide sideways, almost into a wall. He could hear the thuds of his brothers hitting the backs of their seats behind him, but he couldn’t make the vehicle stop—couldn’t keep it from skidding through the water—

“Whoa, Donnie!” Leo shouted.

The truck finally stopped sliding, inches from a concrete wall. Donnie took a rough, rattling breath.

Raph picked himself off the floor with a groan. “What’s the matter, Don?” he said. “Forget how to drive in the rain?”

Don slowly turned around, his olive-green face pallid and his expression locked in one of dread. “I think…” he said slowly. “I think I just ran someone down.”

“What?” Raph said. “No way.”

“I didn’t feel the Battle Shell hit anything,” Leo said dubiously.

“I saw someone standing in the road just before I tried to brake,” Don said desperately. “But the Battle Shell hydroplaned, and I couldn’t—“

“We’ll take a look,” Leo said, moving towards the back of the vehicle. “If anyone was hurt, we have to help them.”

They were hit by a blast of chilly rain as the doors swung open, coating their skin and pouring into their eyes. Leonardo shivered and held a hand out before his eyes. The wind had picked up and was blowing past them, bringing old newspapers and the faint scent of spilled oil with it. A full-blown storm was brewing around them, and the Turtles were caught out in it.

“Ugh, I’m gonna need a shower after this shower,” Mikey groaned.

Raph just grumbled under his breath and stalked out into the dark.

Leo lifted his hand and clicked on a flashlight, sending a weak beam shining across the road behind them. His eyes strained against the dark as he tried to see anything out in the road — a shape, a blood spatter, some sign that someone was there or had been there…

Then his eyes narrowed, as the beam found something dark and huddled in the middle of the street. It was about the size of a person if they were curled up on themselves, and he could see something black fluttering in the wind, like a cloak or a long coat.

Raph was already kneeling beside it, bending down low and doing something with his hands.

“Is it alive?” Leo shouted against the wind.

“Nope, but it never was,” Raph responded equally loudly. “Garbage bag fulla trash. Someone must’ve dropped it.”

Relief flooded through Leo at those words. He clicked off the flashlight and took a step back towards the Battle Shell. “Everyone back inside, before you catch pneumonia,” he ordered. 

Mikey and Raph obeyed gladly, scuttling back inside the vehicle. Leo was the last to step back inside, and shut the doors behind himself. He gave a last shudder, and rubbed his hands over his arms. “That storm’s practically turning into a hurricane,” he said.

“Well, how bad was it?” Don asked anxiously.

“Not too bad,” Leo said, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It was just a bag of trash you saw. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“It wasn’t just a bag of trash,” Don protested, looking up at Leo with pleading eyes. “It was standing upright.”

“The wind can do funny things.”

“Leo—“

“Donnie, we looked all over the road, and there was no sign of a person. Just a bag of trash.”

Don stared up at him a moment longer, then seemed to wilt. “If — if you say so.”

“Why don’t you let me drive for awhile?” Leo suggested, gesturing at the road ahead. “You’ve been awake for a long time, and with the wind and rain like they are, maybe you’re not seeing things clearly.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Don said, slipping out of his seat. “Thanks, Leo.”


	5. In Dreams

She could hear them laughing and bickering amongst themselves — the four Turtles, their voices raised as they sat in her living room. She wasn’t sure how they had gotten back into her home, but it didn’t seem to matter — they were here now, and she felt a warm gladness at the thought.

And suddenly she was there too, in the same room with them. But she seemed to be separate from them, watching as they spoke amongst themselves and occasionally shoved each other. There was a mistiness, a distance between her and them that she felt she couldn’t cross, no matter how much she wanted to. So she stood silently, her hands clasped in front of her.

Then three of them were gone. They didn’t fade away or even blink out of existence — it was more like they had never been there in the first place, even though she clearly remembered they had been.

The only one left was Don, who was crouched on the floor with his head bowed and his knees drawn up to his chest, as if he were in pain and trying to hide it. He didn’t look up at April as she approached, even though she knew he was aware of her presence. She could see him so clearly at this distance — every whorl and spot on his shell, the faint movement of his mask tails in the wind, the shift of his muscles under his green skin.

And suddenly her apartment had changed as well — the walls were darker and harder and without windows, and the only light came from a single bulb in the middle of the ceiling.

“Donnie?” she said at last, reaching out a hand. “Are you okay?”

He looked up at her then, and she was shocked by the bone-deep sorrow in his eyes. Sorrow, and what looked like betrayal, raw and painful.

“No matter what,” he whispered, “I want you to close your eyes.”

And then she woke with a gasp.

For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was, her eyes still filled with the sight of Donatello’s face. Then she sat up slowly, the book she had been reading sliding down her stomach.

Her bedroom was filled with warm, soft light from the lamp on her bedside table, which she had left on when she dozed off. Outside her window, the world was dark and clouded. Rain was running down the window in little streams, and she could hear thunder rolling across the sky.

Cold chills slid over her skin like damp, clammy hands. Something about the dream stuck in her mind like an autumn leaf clinging to a window, making her feel that something had gone horribly wrong. She knew the Turtles were all right — she had seen them just a few hours ago, and they had all been fine. Including Don. Especially Don.

Her face flushed as she remembered the firm warmth of his shoulder and throat against her face, the way his arm had effortlessly supported her. Enough thinking about that, she told herself sternly.

Still, her hand slowly moved towards her cell phone. She would call them first thing in the morning, just to make sure they were okay. Leo, probably — he tended to wake up the earliest.

April sighed, and sank down under the covers. She needed her sleep now, more than ever — she had a big day planned tomorrow, and couldn’t afford to drowse off the way she had during movie night. She shut her eyes tightly, and tried to clear her head.

But then she heard something creak outside her door.

Instantly her eyes snapped open, and she felt hairs prickling on her arms. Without thinking, her hand slipped underneath her bed and groped around for the baseball bat she knew was there.

It had been a gift from Casey from the year before. He had expressed worry about her living above a store alone, and had insisted she take one of his bats in case a burglar broke in again. April had scoffed at the time, but now she was fervently grateful she had taken it.

Her heart was racing as she crept towards the door, making sure to avoid the creaky spots on the floor. If she was facing a burglar armed only with a bat, she wanted to make sure she had surprise on her side. Gripping her bat even more firmly, she threw herself against the door, knocking it wide open.

For a moment she saw nothing in the darkened living room beyond — just the angular shapes of furniture dimly jutting out against the shadowy walls. A flicker of lightning from outside briefly lit up the room, casting inky shadows across the floor. She lowered the bat slightly, her green eyes roaming across the room as they adjusted to the darkness.

And then she saw it — an impossibly tall, angular figure, seemingly spun out of solid shadow, standing in the middle of the room. It was completely still, so that a more casual look might have mistaken it for just another shadow. But there was something about it — a bone-chilling coldness that seemed to radiate from its narrow body.

And it realized April had seen it.

Then it moved in a quick, jagged motion, almost as if it were vanishing from one spot and instantly reappearing in another. Its body was flickering now, as if it were made of black fire, and its faceless, eyeless head was turned towards her, intent and unwavering.

Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a bird desperately trying to escape its cage. She raised the bat in fingers that would have trembled if they hadn’t been gripping the wooden club, and quavered, “D-don’t come any closer.”

It looked down at her again. As if to mock her, it jerked and moved closer again, stooping lower as if staring her in the face.

“I said get away!” April shouted, her voice rising almost to a scream.

More silence, except for the crack of thunder that sounded above the stormclouds. Then it reached out towards her, with a long, bone-thin, jointless arm that seemed to uncurl from the main part of its body, with fingers like burning twigs. And that coldness — the bone-deep chill that radiated from it — was so piercingly intense now that April swore she could feel frost forming between her joints….

With a cry, she swung the bat with all her might.

She didn’t expect it to actually do anything — not to a ghastly specter dredged up from her worst nightmares — but the bat passed through the shadowy creature’s arm as if it had been made of water. April felt a brief, insubstantial resistance against her swing, followed by the bat almost flying from her hands.

The shadowy specter seemed to rear back, its arm dissolving into nothingness. She wished she knew what effect she had had, but its lack of a face — even a blank one — told her nothing.

Then it seemed to simply evaporate into a fine dark mist, which dissolved as well into clear air, leaving only a chill in the air to show it had ever been there.

April sank to to the floor, still clutching the bat tightly to her chest. For a long time, she didn’t move.


	6. Donatello's Morning Thoughts

Donatello had been awake for some time, but felt no immediate urge to get out of bed. He rolled onto his side and listened to the far-off sound of grunts and blades slicing through the air — Leo practicing his morning katas, as regular and comfortingly predictable as clockwork. There was something pleasant about hearing something so… reliable.

His mind was still lingering on the strange events of the night before, no matter how hard he tried to dislodge it from his thoughts. He did his best to think about other things — the movie they had watched, the hot water heater that needed fixing soon, the fact that Mikey had gotten cheese all over his keyboard — but his thoughts inevitably slipped back to the figure he had seen in the road.

He didn’t think of himself as a particularly fanciful person. His life — the very fact that he existed at all — was strange enough without generating new strangeness in his own head. But he was sure that he had seen something out in front of the Battle Shell that hadn’t been a bag of trash. It had been tall — taller than any human he had ever seen — angular, dark, and rippling softly in the wind.

The problem was, he didn’t know what he had seen. And without any idea of what he had seen, he had no idea how to learn more about it.

And it had been in his dreams during the night — restless, fitful dreams that weren’t quite frightening enough to be nightmares, but were still unnerving. In those dreams, the shadows of the lair had come alive and followed him, whispering and reaching out with fingers like wisps of smoke. His brothers had gone about their business, seemingly not noticing that anything was amiss. But Don had felt them brushing his skin, leaving trails of icy cold wherever they touched him.

And the strangest part was that in the middle of it all, he had seen April.

She had been curled up on the aqua couch, but he had seen her so clearly that he had been able to make out the shadow of her lashes against her fair cheek, the outline of her fingers against her baggy khaki pants. Her face was turned away from him, as if she were ashamed or trying to avoid his eyes, and her hands were tightly folded in her lap.

When he had spoken her name, she turned towards him reluctantly, and it took a moment before he realized that tears were trickling down her face. A wild, pleading expression had seeped into her green eyes, as if she were desperate.

“April, what’s wrong?” he had asked.

Her hands had come up then, gently resting against his cheeks as she whispered, “I’m going to make this as easy as I can for you.”

And then he woke, breathless and staring at the ceiling of his room.

Most of the dream was nothing too alarming. The shadowy creatures were probably a combination of what he had seen — or thought he had seen — with the movie he had watched. His unconscious mind had simply mixed the two together, and filled his dreams with whatever he had seen and thought about on that particular evening. 

The last part puzzled him, though — nothing that had happened that night should have made him dream of April looking so sad, or saying what she had said. There was something about her haunted, tearful eyes that wrenched at his heart, making him want to comfort her even though he knew that it was all in his imagination.

He was just considering going back to sleep when he heard feet padding into his room.

“Yo, Don,” Raph’s gravelly voice called out. “You sick or somethin’? Are you gonna spend all day in bed?”

“No, and no,” Donatello said, swinging his legs off the side of his loft bed and climbing down to the floor. “I was just—thinking.”

“Well, if you want to think in the shower, it’s free now,” Raph said, adjusting the damp towel around his waist. “Better use it fast before Mikey uses up all the hot water.”

That was a valid possibility, so Don slipped into their shared bathroom and stepped into the shower, soaping himself quickly and rinsing off with the hottest water he could stand. He and his brothers — save Mikey, who often dawdled in the shower — tended to bathe very quickly, since they didn’t have to worry about doffing clothing or washing hair. His shell could use a good scrubbing, he thought, staring at himself in the mirror, but that could wait until the next day.

As he came down into the main living space, he surveyed what his brothers were doing. Leo was training with Master Splinter, imitating the mutant rat’s complicated martial-arts movements with an expression of great intensity. Raph, having just bathed, was already lifting barbells with an almost casual air, as if it was no big deal to him. And Mikey was draped over the couch, immersed in a stack of comic books.

Don moved past them to his work area, and sank into his chair. He began tinkering with one of the gadgets he had left there the previous afternoon, but found that he couldn’t focus on it.

He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. His mind kept skittering back to that strange dream he had had, and the sense of unease that it had left him with. Especially that last part with April — for some reason, her final words to him seemed… ominous.

He looked down at the half-disassembled device in front of him, and thought of how April had kissed his cheek after he fixed her furnace. She always seemed to feel guilty about taking advantage of him, but the truth was that Don loved seeing her leaf-green eyes light up and her mouth curve into a smile when he presented her with some gadget that he had reworked or repaired. It was a sizable reward for something that took so little from him.

She seemed more relaxed when they were running through experiments and crafting devices together, when she could be sure that he was doing what he did for the sheer pleasure of it rather than as a favor. They had spent many long evenings in his lab, sustaining themselves on coffee and stale bagels, their minds humming in unison as they rewrote code, soldered computer components, built new devices from salvaged scraps from the junkyard. Time stopped meaning anything, and there was only the simmering delight of creating something new with a like-minded person.

It had even gotten to the point where Casey had complained about Don monopolizing too much of April’s time. In response, Don had quietly claimed to be busy more nights every week, freeing up April’s time.

He glanced down at some of the machines on his desk, and thought of the various experiments and projects that he and April had left half-finished. He wondered if now she might be able to spend time with him on them — and immediately he felt a stab of guilt for thinking only of himself when she was going through a breakup.

Then he heard the chime of his Shell Cell, and quickly picked it up. 

“Don?” April’s voice said.

“April? Is something wrong?”

“Yes — no — sort of.” Her voice sounded strained. “Something happened last night — I can’t talk about it over the phone —“

A chill went through him, and his hand stiffened around the phone. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No!” she said quickly. “No, it’s not like that. I — it’s just — Don, you know how we agreed you would come over to my apartment with the Sentinel robots? Can we do that now instead of tonight?”

“Of course.”

“I really need someone to talk to.”

“I can be there in just a few minutes,” he said. He reached across his desk and closed his fingers around the Battle Shell keys. 

“Thanks, Donnie,” she said, and he could hear the relief and warmth radiating from her voice.

He stared down at his Shell Cell as it went silent, and his hand clenched around it. April hadn’t even hinted at what was bothering her, but it sounded urgent — or as urgent as something that had already occurred could be. She sounded desperate, frightened. And he was suddenly filled with the desire to drive that desperation from her voice. Especially when he thought about that dream, and her eyes full of tears…

Don quickly stuffed one of the small malfunctioning robots into a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder, He was halfway across the lair, headed for the elevator, when a voice came from behind him.

“Where are you going, Don?” Leo called.

“To April’s,” Don replied over his shoulder.

“Did you forget something last night?”

“No, something upset her. She asked me to come over right now so we can talk,” Don said, feeling slightly uncomfortable about telling Leo what April had said to him.

Leo’s brow furrowed. “Do you want me to come?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Don assured him, hitching the bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”


	7. Conversations at Breakfast

April was waiting for him when he stepped out of the Battle Shell, leaning on the side-door to her shop. She looked as though she hadn’t slept at all the previous night — her customary knot of red hair looked rumpled, and there were circles under her heavy eyes. She was also still dressed in the worn T-shirt and shorts that Don knew she used as pajamas.

“Hey, Don,” she said, smiling slightly as she saw him. “Thanks for coming over. I hope it isn’t inconvenient.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Don said warmly, following her into her store. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not a lot,” April admitted, as they made their way up the stairs and into her apartment. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He waited patiently as she went through the motions of making coffee for both of them, and finally set a steaming mug in front of him. When she slipped into the chair opposite him, her hands were trembling slightly. Her eyes stared hollowly at the tabletop, as if searching for answers among the wood grains.

“What’s wrong?” Don said softly. “You sounded really upset on the phone.”

“I saw something last night,” April replied, even more quietly. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that either I was hallucinating, or my apartment is haunted. I’m not sure which option is worse.”

“Haunted,” Don repeated, his eyes widening. “So… you saw a ghost.”

“I saw something that looked like a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts, Don,” April said, her voice quavering a little. “At least, I’ve never seen any evidence they exist. Except — except that last night — I saw this — this thing standing in my living room.”

“What did it look like?”

April stared down into the depths of her coffee. “This is going to sound crazy, but it looked like someone had sculpted a figure out of shadows.”

“And you haven’t seen anything strange since then?” Don asked, staring into the remains of his cup of coffee. “No other odd visions, after-images, maybe symptoms like dizziness or disorientation?”

“No,” April said faintly. “Do you have some idea what it could be?”

“I — well, shadowy figures aren’t uncommon for people to see,” he said slowly. “In fact, they’re very common with some… conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?”

“Well… mental illness, for one,” Don said reluctantly. “Conditions like depression and schizophrenia can cause visions of shadow people.”

April’s eyes widened in alarm, and her fingers tightened around her coffee mug.

“But those are not the only conditions that can cause you to see things,” Don added hastily. “Sleep paralysis is often associated with shadow people. They can also be generated by sleep deprivation, although you probably weren’t suffering from that since you fell asleep during the movie.”

“It wasn’t sleep paralysis,” April said, resting her head on her folded arms. “I was up and walking around.”

His nose wrinkled slightly. “I assume you’re not on methamphetamines…”

“Of course not!”

Don’s eyes flickered as he contemplated what April had told him. “April, I… is it possible that you could have dreamed the whole thing?” he asked.

“I felt wide awake.”

“But it is a possibility, isn’t it?” Don probed. “I mean, you were watching a movie with evil shadowy creatures in it, and then you saw one in your dark living room in the middle of the night.”

“I… might have,” April said slowly, sounding unconvinced. 

“That might be the most likely answer,” Don said, grasping at any explanation that didn’t have more serious connotations. “At least without signs of any sort of recognizable illness or disorder that could have caused you to hallucinate. You’d need to see a doctor, though, to really rule out any medical cause, but… given what happened, I’d guess that it was a dream.” 

“I hope you’re right,” April murmured. “It was just… it didn’t look like any of the Black Riders in the movie.”

Don’s brow furrowed. “Was it… shaped like a human being?”

“Not exactly,” April said, raising her mug to her lips. He noticed a slight tremor in her hands. “It was… it was more like a tall column with a head on the very top, and it didn’t seem entirely solid.”

A cold prickle ran down Don’s body, and he quickly set the coffee mug down before he dropped it. Memories flashed before his eyes — memories of seeing something through a rain-spattered windshield, something that almost blended into the darkness of the empty street until the headlights had shone on it. Only for a moment, but long enough to see a faceless head that plumed like billowing smoke.

“It didn’t have a face — not even a place where a face should be,” she continued, seemingly not noticing his reaction. “And it moved like—“

“Like fire?” Don said quietly. “As if it were flickering?”

April’s green eyes opened wider, and slowly turned up towards him. “How did you know?” she whispered.

“Because last night, I saw — something too,” Don said slowly. “It was only for a split second, but… it almost caused the Battle Shell to spin out of control. I thought it was a person at first, but…”

“Then I’m not going crazy,” April said, sighing with relief. 

“Not unless we both are, in oddly similar ways,” Don said, his gaze hardening as he set down his cup. “Of course, that also leaves us with other problems, like figuring out what exactly it was that we both saw.”

“And what it wanted,” April said quietly. “I don’t know what it was doing here last night, but it tried to grab me.” A shudder passed through her, and her hand closed tightly on her coffee cup.

Don looked her over for a moment, as if expecting to see handprints on the woman’s body. Then he leaned towards April, gently enclosing her small pale hand in his larger green one, and squeezing it between his fingers. “April,” he said quietly, “we’re going to figure this out. One way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of what happened.”

She took a quavering breath, and tried to smile. “I know. Thank you, Don.”

Don smiled, then felt her hand moving gently against his, her small fingers fluttering against his palm like the wings of a trapped bird. He loosened his grip, but she made no motion to reclaim her hand from him, as if she were completely comfortable with him holding it. Instead of letting go, he let her slender fingers slip through his thicker ones, entwining them together lightly, just for a moment.

“Don?” April said, her fingers tightening around his. “What are—“

But the loud crash of breaking glass interrupted her before she could say anything more, as something small and heavy hurtled through the apartment. April let out a cry, and Don pulled the bo from his back almost on instinct. Then he saw what it was, lying in the middle of a pile of shattered glass — a small cylindrical object, topped with a plug and a lever.

Someone had thrown a grenade into the apartment.


	8. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimme a shout if you are reading this, please!

Don threw himself over the table, desperate to get his body between April and the grenade. For a moment he considered simply throwing himself on top of it, but even if he did that, the blast would still be enough to kill her when it went off. So he dove towards the weapon, and his hand closed around it… if he could just throw it back through the window before it went off, there might be enough distance for the blast to not injure them…

Then a cloud of pale yellow smoke suddenly rushed out of one end, striking Don full in the face. He stumbled back a step, but was able to raise his arm over his head and fling the grenade through the gaping hole in the glass window. It vanished in a cloud of gas, and he heard something clatter down in the street below. Then voices began to shout outside, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Don!” April was at his side, her fingers clutching at his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Don gasped. His lungs were burning as if someone had stuck a lit match into his throat, and his eyes were tearing, but he was still able to fight. He had to be — someone was trying to catch them.

He inched closer to the window and peered down into the cloud of yellow gas emanating from the grenade. He could see many dark shapes on the street beyond, scuttling away from the gas to avoid its effects. How many, he wasn’t sure, but he spotted at least two dozen shapes moving through the cloud. His stomach sank as he saw them swarming towards the side of the building, shouting amongst themselves.

One of them ran underneath the window for a moment, and Don saw him clearly — short spiky blond hair, tattered street clothes, and a large tattoo on his bare arm. A tattoo of a purple dragon curling over his bicep to swallow its own tail.

“Shell,” Don whispered, inching away from the window.

This could be very bad. Don knew he was more than a match for any individual Purple Dragon, or even a group of them, and he and his brothers were able to take on superior numbers in a fight. They had done that plenty of times. But one of them alone could still be overwhelmed by enough of them — and there seemed to be a lot in the street below.

Even worse, the Purple Dragons were thinking strategically this time. They weren’t just bursting in with their blunt weapons at the ready — they were armed with gas grenades. They were prepared for this conflict, more so than their usual petty crime ventures.  
He slipped a hand into his belt and pulled out his Shell Cell, dialing the first number he could think of.

After a moment of ringing, he heard Leo’s voice at the other end. “Hello?”

“Leo, it’s Don,” he said tensely.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m at April’s. Leo, the Purple Dragons are here, and they’re trying to get inside.”

Leo’s voice hardened instantly. “We’ll be right there.”

“I took the Battle Shell.”

“We can get there without it, Don. Just hang on!”

Don’s hand clenched around the Shell Cell as it went dead, and his eyes went swiftly to April’s. She was waiting expectantly for him, her face frightened but determined.

“They’ll be here soon,” he said, tucking the Shell Cell away, and trying to look less unsettled than he felt.

He also tried to look steadier than he felt. His knees felt slightly weak, and his grip on his bo felt less firm than it usually was. It must have been the gas grenade, he concluded as he took another deep breath, trying to clear the burning sensation from his lungs. It must have had some kind of sedative effect, even though he had only gotten a single lungful of the gas.

On the other hand, he had managed to throw it back into the midst of the Purple Dragons, so they had probably gotten more of the gas than he had. And it might keep them at bay, regrouping, until the effects of it wore off. They didn’t know he had called for help, after all.

Then he heard something heavy smashing into the door downstairs.

“They’re breaking in,” April breathed. “Don—“

“Get into the bedroom,” Don said, holding his bo in front of himself. They hadn’t broken into the shop downstairs yet, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before they did. “I’m going to hold them off.”

April’s fingers closed on his shoulder, and for a moment he felt her warm presence beside him, her breath on the side of his face. “Don, be careful,” she said.

Another crash from downstairs, and he nearly jumped out of his shell. April’s hand clutched at his arm, and he felt her nails biting into his skin. Her green eyes were wide, fearful. Without thinking, he placed his own hand over hers, wanting to reassure her that everything would be all right, that he wouldn’t let the Purple Dragons come anywhere near her. He wanted to tell her that, and see the fear drain from her eyes.

But all he did was squeeze her hand and point at the bedroom.

“I’ll call the police too,” she said breathlessly.

He waited until he heard the bedroom door slam before moving to the top of the stairs, and positioning himself there. He could hear more crashing below — the door was probably going to give in any second now — but at least keeping the Purple Dragons on the stairs would make it easier for him not to be overwhelmed by their numbers. He could simply knock the nearest one back, perhaps throw them down the stairs.

Don glanced back at the window, wishing desperately that he hadn’t taken the Battle Shell, which was still presumably parked in the alley beside the shop. His brothers would have already gotten here if he hadn’t, and the Purple Dragons would definitely be history.

Of course, he still didn’t know why the Purple Dragons were here, and why they were attacking April’s apartment. Maybe — his grip tightened on his bo — it was because of the Turtles themselves. Maybe they were coming after April in order to get to her friends…

The sound of splintering wood came from downstairs, and every muscle in Donatello’s body tensed. Angry voices rose from below, along with the crash and tinkle of things being smashed to the floor.

Two of the Purple Dragons appeared at the bottom of the stairs — one was holding a baseball bat like a club, and the other had a long length of heavy chain. Easy to get rid of, Don thought.

They charged up at him, shouting and swinging their weapons, but a few well-timed swings of his bo sent them crashing back down to the store below. But more were appearing behind them — a wiry one with spiky black hair and a small goatee, holding a knife so large it looked almost like a small sword. He seemed to be the leader, charging up the stairs with a snarl on his face.

“Get the freaks!” he shouted.

And then Don heard the crash of glass breaking again behind him — and something flew past his head. As he turned around, he saw another cloud of yellow gas wafting through the living room — and as he dove to grab the second grenade, a third cracked against his shell and skittered towards April’s bedroom door, already emanating more gas.

“No!” Don cried out.

He had already inhaled a lungful of the gas before he saw the grenade, and could already feel it affecting him. His legs suddenly felt like they were made out of lead, and his joints felt as though they had suddenly turned to water. His head was spinning even as his lungs burned — he could barely stand now, and was hanging onto his bo for support.

He had to stay upright — had to keep fighting. But he could feel himself sinking to one knee, even as the ground under him seemed to wobble and sway. No! He couldn’t let this happen!

“There’s only one of ‘em!” a voice shouted from nearby.

“Then grab it! One’s better than nothin’!”

“Check the bedroom!”

Don gritted his teeth and struggled to stand, seeing faces through ugly buglike gas masks around him. They had the bedroom door open — he could hear April shouting — struggling — no, he had to get to her — couldn’t let them hurt her —

Then something cracked against his shell, knocking him to the floor. He gasped, taking in another lungful of the gas, and everything crashed into darkness.


	9. Imprisoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are madly appreciated.

The first thing April felt was cold concrete against her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered as she wondered what had happened — had she fallen asleep in the lair again, and fallen to the floor? Her bedroom floor was softer than this. She rolled onto her back and blinked against the light blazing from a naked bulb overhead. The ceiling was more cracked concrete, with some moisture dripping down from one of the larger crevices.

And for some reason, her lungs hurt with every breath.

She rolled over onto her hands and knees, and looked around the room. It was a cavernous prison cell that looked as though it had been carved out rather than constructed, with long cold steel bars embedded in great rough slabs of concrete that seemed to sprout from the floor and ceiling.

And Don was crumpled on the floor nearby, unmoving.

April immediately crawled toward him, and rolled him back onto his shell so she could see his face. He had been unconscious when they dragged her from her bedroom, so he had probably breathed in more of the gas than she had. She had been helpless to stop them as they had dragged him down the stairs, his shell crunching loudly against every step. As she had passed out, her last panicked thoughts were of whether he was all right — they had been so rough with him, as if trying to pay him back for every humiliating defeat they had suffered at the Turtles’ hands.

As she crouched over him now, she could see ugly dark bruises mottling his shoulders and legs. And if his shell could bruise, it would probably have done so.

She pressed her fingers gently against his arm. “Don?” she whispered desperately to him. “Don, can you hear me?”

He flinched at that, and slowly opened his dark eyes.

“April,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to smile. “They didn’t hurt me. But you…”

A strange expression came over Don’s face, almost as if he were puzzled by something. His eyes seemed to wander over April’s face, and she saw the beginnings of panic sparking in them. She felt his fingers twitch against her hand, but no more than a twitch.

“April… I can’t move.”

April’s eyes widened. “Is it the gas? You breathed more of it than I did,” she said.

“No, it’s not the gas,” a voice said from outside the cell — a snaky, sneering voice that April had heard faintly from outside her bedroom.

A man was standing in the shadows outside the cell, leaning against the bars, one leg raised with his foot against the wall. It was a thin, wiry man with a long face, spiky black hair and a small, jagged goatee on his chin. His eyes were what caught April’s attention — they were cold, blank and black, like the eyes of a shark.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said with a grin. “I’m Racer. I work right under Dragon Face, and he’s in charge when Hun ain’t around.”

“What did you to do to him?” April shouted.

“Nothin’ much. We just injected him with a paralytic that works like magic. It doesn’t affect breathin’ or anything, just keeps him from moving his muscles 95% of the time. And it lasts for hours.” His grin widened, showing teeth that looked as though they had been sharpened. “After all, we don’t want him misbehavin’ before he goes to his new home. Someone’s payin’ us a lot of money to bring him in alive.”

April felt an icy chill ripple through her. It couldn’t be the Shredder — while he would surely pay for the Turtles, alive or dead, he also had Hun to do his dirty work for him, so he wouldn’t need Dragon Face or Racer. Could it be Agent Bishop? No, he had the resources to hunt for the Turtles without resorting to street gangs like the Purple Dragons, no matter how powerful they had become. Her mind frantically searched over all the enemies they had told her about — but none of them made sense to her.

Don had somehow managed to push against the floor enough to get on his side, and was staring balefully at Racer. But the effort caused his arms to tremble as though he was on the verge of collapse, and his breath was coming in pained gasps.

“Color me impressed,” Racer said. “I would’ve thought you wouldn’t be able to move at all.” His cold eyes narrowed. “Too bad it’s all he can do. A baby’s stronger than he is right now.”

April slipped her arms around Don’s torso and heaved him up, so that his side was resting against her lap and his head was against the curve of her shoulder. Though he was shorter than she was, he was also heavier — she supposed it was the thick shell and all that muscle — and she had to strain to support him.

“Let her go,” Don demanded.

“Don!” April cried, tightening her grip on him.

“If I’m the one you want, there’s no reason to keep her here,” he continued hoarsely, his body trembling with the effort. “Let her go.”

Racer grinned again. “Aww, is the freak worried about his little girlfriend? How adorable.” He shook his head. “No, I think we’ll keep her around as a contingency plan, just in case your friends prove to be harder to catch. A knife at her throat, and they’ll cave in.”

Another tremor passed through Donatello’s body, along with a loud grunt. April could feel the anger radiating from him, but his body refused to cooperate. She clutched him tightly, pressing her face against the top of his head, wishing she could protect him as he had always protected her. This was a nightmare. It had to be, she thought feverishly, feeling her fingers digging into his green skin.

“Besides,” Racer said, turning away, “both of you might be interesting entertainment for us.”

A massive steel door swung open in the wall behind him, and he stepped out, a high-pitched chuckle floating in the air behind him. Don stiffened again in April’s arms, but subsided as her arms tightened around him.

April had no idea what he meant, but she knew enough about the Purple Dragons to know that she didn’t want to find out. They were violent — brutal — merciless to anyone whom they didn’t like. Hun was the worst of them, but he didn’t seem to be involved in this particular venture. He probably wouldn’t catch the Turtles for anyone but the Shredder, and would have faithfully taken the helpless Don to his master right away. No, he wasn’t involved.

But she wasn’t sure if Racer was any better. He had watched their faces the entire time he had been speaking, soaking in their reactions almost eagerly. Don’s helpless anger had amused him, and April knew that her visible fear had been even more enticing to him. He liked people frightened and preferably powerless. It excited him. No wonder he had come in to taunt Donnie with his own helplessness and talk about putting knives to April’s throat.

She raised her head and looked around the cell, for anything they might be able to use to get out. All she saw was a dirty, rather battered old mattress shoved in the far corner of the cell, and what looked like two dog bowls full of rather dusty water.

“Just try to hold on a minute,” she said to Don, looping one of his arms around her neck.

It took a long time — probably not as long as it seemed, though — for her to heave him halfway onto her back. Her knees and hips protested as she began half-dragging, half-carrying the heavy Turtle across the cell, her fingers digging into the lip of his shell and his head sagging against hers. His legs trembled as he tried to hold his own weight, but he only ended up half-collapsing against her. His breath in her ear was coming in gasps.

It must have been torturous for him to be so weak, she reflected, because Don and his brothers were usually quite strong. He had carried her in his arms on the first day they had known each other, and her weight hadn’t even slowed him down. He might as well have been carrying a housecat. But despite his strength, he had been gentle and careful with her, as if afraid she might break.

Finally her trembling footsteps took her to the mattress, and she almost collapsed onto it as she tried to lower Don’s body down. He groaned loudly as he struck the mattress hard, the springs groaning under his shell.

“Sorry!” April gasped, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Gently she arranged Don’s arms and legs so that he was more comfortably situated on the mattress, though there was nothing on it to support his head. He smiled wanly at her as she placed his hands gently on his plastron.

“I’m sorry, April,” he said softly.

“Sorry? What for?”

“I’m the reason you’re here,” he said, his eyes dimming slightly. “If it hadn’t been for me — or if I had been able to protect you —“

“Don’t worry about that,” April said warmly, leaning down to press her lips against his forehead. “It’s not your fault, Don. Nobody could have done more than you did.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, curling one arm around her bare legs and resting the other one against his hand. They just had to hold out until his brothers could find them. Don had called them just as the Dragons had attacked, so they knew what had happened. They knew who was responsible. And she knew that they would tear down every hiding place the Purple Dragons had until they found her and their brother.

The guys would find them. Somehow.


	10. The Aftermath of the Attack

Leo felt dread pooling in his belly — he had felt it ever since he had received Donatello’s frantic call, saying that the Purple Dragons were attacking April’s home. It grew stronger with every passing second, until he could barely stand to sit still, every nerve in his body screaming at him to do something.

The Sewer Slider roared under him as it darted through the sewers, moving as fast as Raphael was able to drive it without crashing. Leo knew rationally that the vehicle was a fast way to travel — faster than the Battle Shell, since it didn’t need to stop for lights or traffic — but it still felt painfully slow when all he wanted to do was get there.

“Hang a right at the next junction,” Mikey called out, a handmade map flapping in his hands.

Raph did as he was told, and Leo had to grip the frame of the Slider to keep from flying sideways. He dug his heels into the seat, and watched as tunnels and pipes flew by on every side, 

“How much further is it?” he asked, leaning forward.

“We’re almost there,” Mikey said, pointing at one of the little marks on the map. “April’s place is one of the landmarks Don put on this map. Okay, Raph, another right at the next—whoa!”

The Slider swerved to the right, nearly climbing up the wall as it turned. 

“Closer… closer… I think we’re there!” Mikey yelped.

The Slider braked hard enough that Leo nearly smacked his head against Raph’s seat. Normally he would have chastised his brother for his reckless driving, but right now he wasn’t willing to waste the time — and besides, Raph had gotten them there as quickly as it was possible to go. As the Slider settled down to the ground, Leo leaped out and headed for the nearest manhole cover, for once not caring whether anyone was there to see him emerge from the sewer. This was too important.

As he lifted the cover, he found himself staring at the front of the Battle Shell — they had arrived almost perfectly at their destination. He flung the cover aside, leaped out into the street and swiftly made his way to the side door of April’s shop.

The door had almost been ripped in half, with chunks of splintered wood scattered all around. Leo charged through it with barely a pause, and swiftly took in the interior of the antique shop — the smashed dishes, the overturned furniture, the front windows shattered. Someone had gone through and upended the place, just for the fun of it.

No sign of Don. No sign of April. No sign of the Purple Dragons.

His heart was pounding as he made his way up the stairs, his katanas clutched in his hands. He couldn’t hear a sound from up there, but that didn’t necessarily mean no one was there. Don and April could be hurt. They could be hiding. They could be… no, he wouldn’t even imagine that. He gritted his teeth and shook the intrusive thoughts from his head.

The first thing he noticed about the living room as he stepped inside was the faint yellowish haze that hung around the floor, like an oddly-colored fog. He felt a faint burning in his throat as he moved through the room, peering around the furniture for some sign of his brother or April. The living room and kitchen had also been ransacked, with furniture overturned and the windows smashed open.

Then he stepped on something — something long and thin that rolled under his foot. A bo staff.

Leo’s heart sank into his stomach. That meant that something had happened to Don — he never would have left without his weapon if he could have helped it. Seizing the bo, he charged into April’s bedroom and looked around wildly. If April had been in here, she hadn’t gone without a fight — a lamp had been smashed and a small bedside table dragged away from the wall. But there was no sign of her either.

Footsteps behind him. Leo whirled around, ready to attack, only to find Raph and Mikey standing there. “Mikey, check the other apartment — see if there’s any sign of Don or April there,” Leo said, clinging to the last chance that they weren’t gone.

Thankfully Mikey wasn’t in a mood for jokes, and simply did as he was told. Raph’s eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at the bo in Leo’s hand, and a familiar snarl came over his face.

“Where’s Donnie?” he said, his sai spinning up into his hands.

“He’s not here. Neither is April,” Leo said, his fingers clenching around the wooden staff. “They’re alive — they’ve got to be, or the Dragons would have left them here.”

“They better be, or I’m gonna find out how many holes I can poke in them before—“

“Nobody in the other apartment,” Mikey interrupted, rushing into the room. He wrinkled his nose as he came in, waving a hand in front of his face. “Okay, which one of you did that? And just how much bleach did you drink before you did it?”

Leo frowned, his eyes scanning over the hazy floor for some clue about what was going on. Then a glint of metal caught his eye, and he swiftly made his way into the kitchen, poking aside a fallen pan in order to see what was lying behind it. A small cylindrical metal object, a loose lever dangling from its top — a grenade of some kind, though clearly it wasn’t about to explode, given how long since it had been thrown. He prodded it with the bo, and a puff of yellowish gas seeped out.

“A gas grenade,” Leo said grimly. “That must have been how they got the better of Donnie.”

“There’s another one over here,” Mikey called, brandishing another grenade. “Man, they really let rip in here. This place stinks.”

Raph growled loudly, his hands shaking as he clutched at his sai. “Purple Dragons,” he muttered. “They’ve gone too far this time, takin’ Donnie. I’m going straight out there and—“

“No, Raph,” Leo said quickly, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We have to figure out the Purple Dragon hideouts nearest to here, and start systematically going through them to find Don and April. And if we can, we can try to track Don’s Shell Cell.”

“You know how to do that?” Mikey said dubiously.

“No, but… I’ve seen Donnie do it,” Leo said hesitantly. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll simply tear through the Purple Dragons until we find them and bring them home.”

“What if they were caught for the Shredder?” Mikey said, suddenly and uncharacteristically sober.

That thought had been rattling around in the back of Leo’s head, unacknowledged and unwanted. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, because that was the scenario in which rescue was the least likely — and in which Donnie was most likely to die before they had a chance to save him. “If — if this had been the Shredder’s operation, he would have sent Foot ninja and not the Purple Dragons,” he said slowly, grasping at what little hope he could find.

Before either brother could respond, the far-off sound of sirens sounded. Raph stiffened, and gripped his sai harder, as if expecting to have to fight the police. The sirens grew louder with every passing second, and Leo turned towards the broken windows, having the unnerving feeling that they were soon going to be overwhelmed by the authorities if they didn’t leave immediately.

“I think that means it’s time for us to go,” Mikey said.

Leo grimaced, and swiped the Battle Shell keys from April’s table. “Raph, you take the Sewer Slider home. I’ll take the Battle Shell.”

“Then do we kick some Purple Dragon butt?” Raph snarled.

“Yes,” Leo said grimly. “That’s exactly what we do.”


	11. In the Cell

The hours that passed were mostly quiet, except for the faint dripping of water from cracks in the ceiling. April listened mostly to the soft rhythm of Don’s breathing, which soothed her frayed nerves. She kept their arms loosely entwined, their hands resting against each other’s fingers, hoping that he could get some comfort from the contact even if he couldn’t hold her hand. She felt his fingers tremble against hers occasionally, trying to touch her back.

April also rested her head on his shoulder, making sure that she didn’t put too much pressure on it — he couldn’t move away, and he might not tell her if he was uncomfortable. She found it comforting to rest against his body, her cheek against his smooth green skin. And she had the feeling that he found her presence comforting as well.

Every now and then she felt the muscles of his arm stiffen and flex, and heard him grunt softly as he tried to move. A tremor would run through him, and he would fall back on the mattress, still unable to move. Her fingers brushed against his, stroked them, tried to bring him some small measure of comfort as he struggled. She could hear his breath growing softer and more even as she did, which only made her want to do it more.

But then she heard two voices filtering from the rooms outside the cell — one of the voices she recognized as Racer’s, but she didn’t recognize the other man’s voice.

“… only got one of ‘em, and we made a deal for the full set.”

“Relax, willya? I got one of ‘em, and we can just get the rest later.”

“It ain’t that easy,” the other voice said in a steely tone. “I’ve fought them before, and they’re tough. They took out me and the other boys in no time, and not just once.”

“Well, this one went down fast,” Racer sneered. “A little gas and he was helpless as a baby. I bet the other three go down just as fast when I do the same thing to ‘em.”

“You’d better hope they do. If he doesn’t get what he paid for, we’re all gonna regret it. And he supplied the gas grenades, the paralyzing drug, even told us where we could find the freaks.”

April felt her stomach twist into a knot, and her hand closed tightly around Don’s. She could hear his breathing quicken at what he was hearing.Whoever “he” was, he wanted all four Turtles and was going to great lengths to obtain them — he had been watching them, giving the Purple Dragons the means to capture and subdue them. April still had no idea who he was — and as far as she could tell, neither did Don.

Racer scoffed. “You worry too much. Show him one freak as proof we can get the job done, and tell him we’ll have the rest soon.”

“Don’t try to tell me what to do, Racer,” the other voice said ominously. “When Hun’s not here, I’m in charge. Remember that.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be for much longer if he finds out what you’ve been doin’ behind his back. He wants those Turtles for the Shredder.”

The other voice growled. “As long as we get rid of them, it doesn’t matter how.”

April shivered, and turned her face into Don’s arm. She felt his fingers tremble against hers again, trying to comfort her.

After that, the voice became harder to hear, meaning that the two men — she supposed the other one was Dragon Face — had probably moved further away. She released Don’s hand and crawled to the furthest edge of the cell, but the two voices were still too muffled for her to hear. 

Experimentally, she wrapped her hands around the steel bars and pulled at them. The prison cell looked like it had been made by the Purple Dragons themselves, so perhaps it had some kind of weak spot she could exploit. Of course, neither she nor Don were able to do much at present. Until he regained his strength, she couldn’t get him out of this cell, and there was no way she was leaving him behind. Not now, not ever.

Don was watching as she crept back to the mattress on her hands and knees. His dark eyes hardened with determination as he began to tremble again, and one of his arms moved slowly towards her. 

She caught his hand as it moved off of the mattress, and smiled. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I think so. It’s — not as hard to move as it was before,” he said, with an effort. His fingers briefly closed around hers, before relaxing again. “In a few more hours, I might be able to actually do something productive.”

“Finally, some good news,” April said, relieved. 

His eyes met hers, some indefinable emotion swirling in their depths. “They’re going to find us, April.”

“I know they will,” she said, hoping she sounded confident. Raph, Leo and Mikey were all hot on the trail — that much she was certain of. But it was a lot easier for them to track missing persons when they had Don’s brains making everything easier, getting them past technological hurdles that otherwise would trip them up. 

Maybe she was worrying too much. The Purple Dragons were powerful, but they were also street thugs at heart. She had no doubt that three of the Turtles could carve their way through the Dragons if given the chance, especially if Hun was nowhere to be seen. She just wished that she knew where they were — or more precisely, she wished the Turtles knew.

A small smile quirked the corners of Don’s mouth. “You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m just — I’m worried, with that guy Racer around,” she said with a shiver. “He seems—“

Don’s expression hardened, and the warmth in his eyes faded. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he said.

April squeezed his hand. “I felt the same way about how he was looking at you.”

And she meant every word of it. He had looked at Don like a cruel child looks like an injured animal — something he could do whatever he wanted to, because it couldn’t escape him. And his parting line about them both being “entertainment” still haunted her. She didn’t want to even think about what that meant for either of them, and felt her fingers squeezing Don’s even more tightly at the thought.

She had to believe that they would be rescued before anything happened to either of them. There was no other way for them to escape right now — no way to get out of this cell, no way for them both to make it out of the building.

“April,” Don said suddenly. “Help me sit up.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I can do it. With some help,” he amended.

April released his hand, braced her feet against the concrete floor, and slipped both hands behind his shell. As she pulled him towards her, she felt the firm warmth of his plastron rubbing against her torso, his breath rushing against her throat as he exhaled. His arms were still trembling, but they were able to hang on to her as they both moved him into a more upright position, with his legs half-uncurled across the mattress.

As he steadied himself, April found herself strangely reluctant to let him go. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something comforting about feeling his arms — weakened as they were — against her, his warmth, the solid presence that she desperately needed right now. Maybe it was just that she was frightened, and he was reassuring.

But he grunted and let her go, pressing his hands against the mattress to hold his torso upright. April felt a rush of warmth in her heart at the sight. He really was improving — and perhaps when he had improved further, they could find some way out of this cell…

Then she heard someone clap behind her.

“Very impressive,” Racer’s voice said.


	12. Won't Let Them Hurt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains discussion of rape and an attempted rape.

The Purple Dragon grinned at them from behind the door of the cell. Three others were standing around him — one with a shaved head, one with a dragon tattoo circling his eye, and one with numerous piercings. April could feel their eyes roving over her body — her breasts, her backside, her legs. Fear began to rise inside her again, choking and thick.

Don must have seen it too, because his hand closed over hers. She inched closer to him, almost without thinking about it.

"We came here to give you your next shot, freak," Racer said with another sadistic grin. "Can't have you getting too uppity."

His eyes roamed over to April as well. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something between you and your girlfriend?" His grin widened. "Maybe I should make her my girlfriend too."

Don's eyes narrowed, and April could feel anger rolling off him. He was normally so calm and level-headed, but this seemed to be too much for him. "Leave her alone," he said loudly. "Don't touch her."

"Givin' me orders, freak?" Racer said, acting shocked. "You got some guts."

The Dragon with the shaved head was unlocking the cell door, and every clink of metal made April's heart skip a beat. She could feel Don tensing beside her, as if he was coiling to spring to her defense. But he couldn't — she knew he was still half-paralyzed from the last dose of the drug. In this state, he was no match for four Purple Dragons, and they all knew it.

The door clunked open, and the Dragons started filing inside, muttering amongst themselves and still eyeing April hungrily. But the other three didn't make a move while Racer stood at their lead, smirking down at Don as the Turtle trembled and strained to stay upright.

"You already have me for whatever deal you've got planned," Don said. "Just let her go."

"Neither one of you is gettin' out, freak," the Dragon with the piercings said.

"Real chivalrous, ain't he?" Racer said with a grin. "Defending his fair lady, even though he can't even take care of himself. He's practically paralyzed, but he's still thinkin' he can tell us what to do. He's got guts."

His hand snaked out and grabbed a handful of April's hair, twisting it around his fist. April cried out and involuntarily moved toward him, trying to relieve the pressure on her scalp. Don spasmed and tried to crawl toward her, only for the tattooed Dragon to strike him down to the mattress.

"I hate guts," Racer said, letting go of her hair. "I like breakin' people who have 'em. Mace, grab the girl's arms."

Calloused hands closed on April's wrists and twisted her arms up above her head, dragging her off of the mattress. "No!" she shrieked, thrashing against Mace's legs as he pulled her onto the cold concrete floor. Her head was spinning and she felt nauseous at the feel of this Dragon's hands on her. This couldn't be happening. It was all a nightmare — a sick, twisted nightmare born from too much pizza and her innermost fears.

But then she saw Don's eyes — wide, hopeless, wild with anger and fear — and she knew it was all too real. She couldn't have dreamed an expression like that in his face.

Racer was sitting on the mattress beside him, with his hands clamped around Don's throat. April realized with a sickening jolt that he wasn't choking Don — he was forcing the Turtle to watch, holding his head so that he couldn't look away from what was about to happen.

"Pretty girl, ain't she?" he hissed in Don's ear. "She might not be so pretty when my guys are done with her."

"I'm sorry," Don whispered.

Even though it was barely audible, April could hear him clearly.

Then April felt a hand on her breast, twisting and kneading at it painfully. She thrashed against the hand, kicking out at the tattooed Dragon with both her feet. She was desperate now — fear, thick and hot as blood, was flooding her body. She knew there was no way to stop what was happening, but she had to try — had to struggle — had to put up as much of a fight as she could — she clawed at Mace's hands and bucked her body against his legs, but the Dragon with the shaved head seized her legs and began to pry them apart —

"Enjoy the show, Turtle," Racer sneered. "Once we're done with her, you won't even want to touch her again—"

A loud crack rang out through the cell as Don suddenly tore away from Racer's hands, and rammed his head directly into the man's face. Scarlet blood fountained from Racer's nose as he fell to the floor, scrabbling and thrashing against the concrete. He let out a bloodcurdling howl, his fingers clawing desperately at his face.

Don was already halfway off the mattress, his legs trembling as he lurched onto his feet. April didn't know how he was managing it, but by some supreme act of will he was moving his almost-paralyzed limbs enough to walk. His eyes burned with pain and anger, almost enough to make the Dragons not notice that his body was shaking as if he was about to collapse, and that his steps were more like stumbles.

For a moment, the three Dragons seemed to pull back. April felt their hands move from her legs and breast as if she were suddenly red hot, and she felt Mace's grip on her hands loosen, as if he were about to drop her and run. She yanked feverishly at his hands, trying to get loose, trying to get back to Don before they realized how tenuous his ability to move was…

Then a loud crack rang out, and Don collapsed to the ground. Racer was crouched behind him, having struck him down from the back. The Dragon's face was livid under its mask of blood, and his fingers curled on thin air as if he wanted to strangle the half-paralyzed Turtle.

"Freak," he hissed. "Think you can do that to me, do you?"

"No!" April screamed.

"April," Don said desperately, his eyes locking on hers. It was all there in his eyes — regret, desperation, and something else that she didn't recognize…

Racer grabbed the knot of Don's mask, yanking his head upward. Don gasped for breath, his muscles straining.

"So, you don't like us touching her, huh? Gettin' a little jealous? Well, it's your lucky day, freak," he sneered. "You're gonna get your wish. We're not gonna put a finger on the girl."

He let go of Don's head, and the Turtle collapsed back onto the cold concrete floor. He was still moving — trembling and jerking mostly, but still trying desperately to get back to his hands and knees, trying to get closer to her.

"Don!" April sobbed, trying to pull her hands free.

"Dragon Face said we had to keep you alive for our client," Racer hissed angrily. "Didn't say nothin' about you not bein' hurt." A mad, ugly light gleamed in his eyes as he leaned down to whisper in Donatello's ear. "So you get to take the girl's place, freak."

April's eyes widened as Racer stood up, and motioned over the two Dragons who had been trying to rape her. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant.

Not Don.

Racer pulled out a small box, and extracted a syringe full of a bluish liquid. With no fanfare, he jammed it into Don's muscular thigh, extracting a pained grunt from the Turtle as the plunger was depressed, flooding his system with the drug. "Don't want you struggling too much," he said with a sadistic smile. "Though a little struggle is always the icing on top. So I hope you can move at least a little, just enough to make it fun."

Don's trembling became less as the drug took effect, and his shaky movements diminished. Soon he was practically limp on the floor, his eyes darting frantically towards April once again. She wanted to get to him — to protect him from what they both knew was coming next — to keep Racer from hurting him, for just one more minute…

"Darts, Eye, grab his arms and pull him onto his knees," Racer ordered. "Then bend him over. He'll regret messin' with the Purple Dragons when I'm done with him."


	13. Rape

Donatello gritted his teeth as he felt their hands on him, dragging him up to his knees. His mind was racing for a solution, something that would get him and April out of this situation — but he was coming up with nothing. A tremor passed through him as he tried once again to move, to struggle against them, despite the paralytic that was flooding through his blood. But nothing happened. He was in their power.

Unfortunately, the paralytic drug did nothing to stifle sensation — he knew he was about to feel everything Racer did to him. And he knew perfectly well what that was going to be.

"Don't!" April was sobbing. "Let him go!"

He heard rather than saw what was happening — the heavy breaths from the two Dragons holding him, the jingle of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Every sound another step towards what he knew was about to happen. Then he felt a calloused hand slipping under the edge of his shell, between his legs, forcing his torso to shift forward.

"Still glad you rescued the lady, huh, mutant?" Racer whispered behind him.

"Stop!" April howled, writhing against Mace's arms.

Don closed his eyes, bracing himself.

He heard April scream just as it happened — a searing, tearing pain that tore through the core of his body, as if someone had stabbed him with a blunt, burning knife between the backs of his thighs. His breath rushed out of him in a ragged gasp, but he managed not to cry out.

"Let's hear you make some noise," Racer whispered. "Show me how much you like it."

He could hear April crying through the rushing in his ears, saw a glimpse of her wide green eyes reddened and full of tears, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to show her he would be all right, that he could bear this. For her sake, he would bear anything. But all he could do was gasp again, his sides heaving as another scraping, burning pain made its way into his body, harder this time. Faster. Deeper.

"Please," April was weeping. "Please, just stop…"

"Stop?" Racer said, grinning over Don's shoulder. "But he likes it, baby. He hasn't complained once."

Don winced as Racer's thin, pointed fingers clamped on his hips, digging into his flesh until he felt blood trickle down his thighs. He wasn't going to show pain to them — he knew it was what Racer wanted.

April sobbed again, and Don opened his eyes long enough to look at her, to try to catch her gaze. She looked up at him, tears pouring down her face, her hands still tearing desperately at Mace's arms. Don tried to smile reassuringly at her, to let her know that he would be all right, but he could feel tears of pain forming in his own eyes as he looked into hers.

He just wanted her to stop crying. He never wanted to see her cry. He wanted to hold her now, whisper to her to just look away from what was happening to his body, to only look at him when it was all over.

A tremble ran through Don's body as he felt Racer behind him, and another pain struck between his legs — a raw, savage one, tearing something inside him as he fought to keep himself from crying out. He could feel blood trickling slowly down between his thighs. His breathing was coming in short gasps now, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before he couldn't stifle the sounds of pain — the whimpers, the moans — that were bubbling up inside his chest.

He shut his eyes tightly, and thought back to what Master Splinter had taught him when he began his sons' ninja training in earnest — exercises to separate the mind from the body, to distance oneself from pain. Pain was an illusion, he had said. The pain itself was not what one suffered from, but the damage that it warned of. It could be ignored. And so he had taught his sons how to remove themselves from the sensations of their bodies, no matter how overwhelming they were.

Don had never been as good at such exercises as Leo was. But he was good enough. He could endure this. He had to.

He tried to clear his mind of the fear, of the humiliation, of the anguish he felt whenever he heard April crying. In that space, he forced himself to only feel the pain where it was located, down in his lower torso — to remember that it was only a sensation, and that his fear and anguish were magnifying it in his mind. He let his mind drift away from it, keeping it at a distance from his thoughts… letting himself think that this was only temporary, and the monster using his body for his own sick pleasure would not have him much longer…

He could feel Racer piercing his body again, over and over, faster and more violently. Even worse, he could feel that his body was starting to react to the stimulus. But he forced himself not to think about it, to remain apart from what was happening to him.

And then he heard April crying again. His self-control wavered.

And then suddenly he was falling, crashing onto his side with a loud crack of his shell hitting the concrete. Something struck him in the back, pushing him against the floor, his arms pinned tightly under his body. They had let him go, let him fall to the floor without any way of catching himself, and now someone was crushing him with their foot. Don grimaced, feeling his chest uncomfortably pressing against the cold floor.

"Filthy freak," Racer said. "Can't even struggle to make it fun. Next time we wait till he's able to move some."

A sharp blow to his shell — probably a kick — and the pressure was suddenly lifted. Footsteps shuffling across the cell. The sound of the cell door slamming shut, and keys jingling as they were turned.

"Don!"

April crept towards him on her hands and knees, her flushed face wet with tears. Her hands were trembling as she ran them over his face, clutched at his bruised hands.

"Don," she whispered.

"April…"

Still crying, she pulled at him until he slid over to the mattress, and a few spasmodic motions of his legs allowed her to push him onto it. Then she crouched beside him, her hands trembling as she touched him, tried to gather him into her arms. Her leaf-green eyes gazed down at him, so full of pain and misery that his heart ached to see it.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, cradling his head against her.

"It's not your fault," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I couldn't let them — hurt you."

His body ached from the attack — the entire bottom half of his torso throbbed dully, and thin glassy streaks of pain ran through him every time he moved. Inside, his body felt raw and torn like a piece of meat that a dog had been ripping into, and he didn't even want to think about what kind of infections he might suffer as a result of this. No, he didn't want to think about this, full stop. Not now, not ever.

April moved slightly towards his lower body, and he saw her bite her lip as she looked between his legs. He could feel that his inner thighs were slick with blood, and more was seeping into the mattress underneath him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of damage had been done.

"I have to stop the bleeding," April said thickly, choking back tears.

"It'll stop on its own," Don said, his hands clinging to hers. "April, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything…" Her fingers tightened around his. "Anything you want."

"If they come here… if they… rape me again… I don't want you to see it."

"You don't… what?" Her eyes widened.

"I want you to close your eyes. Don't look. Don't listen. No matter what happens to me. Just — just wait until it's all over."

"I—I don't know if I can," she said faintly. "It's my fault in the first place— if it weren't for me—"

Don raised a trembling hand to her face, and tried desperately to smile. "No matter what," he whispered, "I want you to close your eyes."

Tears trickled down her face, and caught in his fingers. "I will," she whispered back. She buried her face in the palm of his hand, her lips brushing against the callouses his bo had left, and then huddled down over him again, cradling him against her.

"I don't want to see you cry," Don whispered.


	14. Searching for Don and April

Leo liked to think that he was reasonably intelligent. He certainly wasn't an idiot.

But he felt like one as he went through Don's computer files, searching with increasing desperation for the tracking software on the Shell Cells. Don made these things look so easy — a few taps of the keys, and he could pull up any kind of information his brothers needed. By contrast, Leo felt like he was staring into a sea of incomprehensible code, hoping that it would start making sense if he just looked at it long enough.

Then the table shook, and the computer monitor nearly bounced off it. Leo clamped his hands on it instinctively.

"What the shell are we doin' here?" Raph roared, ramming his fist into the table again. "Donnie and April are out there and we're wastin' time lookin' at his computer!"

Leo wanted to retort that he wasn't wasting time, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that was exactly what he was doing. Don's computer was so massive and his files and programming so extensive that it could easily take hours, even just browsing, to find the tracker he was searching for.

And he couldn't exactly blame Raph for his impatience — the red-masked Turtle had been prowling the place like a hungry panther ever since they returned an hour before, his sai constantly gripped in his hands. He was almost wild about the loss of Donnie, and Leo suspected that any unfortunate Purple Dragons who crossed his path this evening would be lucky to get away without the stab marks of a sai on their bodies.

The only time he had stood still was to call Casey Jones, and alert him to what was going on, which had summoned the vigilante to their lair almost immediately. Now Casey was also prowling the place, his eyes steely and his fists clenched. He had overturned a few tables before Master Splinter had laid down the law and forbidden him to break anything more. He looked almost as frenzied as Raph, though his thoughts were clearly more bent on April — they might be broken up, but he obviously still loved her.

"We should be out there, bustin' heads," Casey declared, swinging a fist at an invisible enemy. Leo suspected he would have taken his frustrations out on the nearby chair, if Master Splinter hadn't been sitting nearby.

"That's what I'm sayin'!" Raph said.

Mikey said nothing, just sat on the couch and contemplated his knees.

Splinter came closer, his gray-furred face grave. "You have not had any success, Leonardo?" he asked quietly.

"None, Master Splinter," Leo said, staring at the open windows. "Finding Don would be easy if I could just find the right program, but I just can't find it."

"You may not have the time to locate it," Splinter said. "You, your brothers and Mr. Jones must go in search of Donatello and Miss O'Neil. I will search for this program of Donatello's."

Leo flinched slightly. Master Splinter was not good with technology… in fact, he was terrible with it, and even simple devices like the Shell Cell tended to confuse him. Letting him loose on Donnie's computer could go very badly. But on the other hand, they couldn't afford to let the computer sit idle while they searched through Purple Dragon hideouts for Don and April — someone had to keep searching.

"Yes, Master Splinter," he said. "I understand. Just… please be careful."

But there was one piece of Donnie's tech he could be sure would be helpful. Leo went to one of the large trunks and cases stacked at the back of Donnie's space, and quickly found the one he was looking for — inside were four compact, transparent gas masks that covered the entire face. If they were going up against the people who kidnapped Don, they might need them.

"Are we goin' already?" Casey shouted, smacking a hockey stick into his hand. "'Cause if you're not, I'm gonna. I can't wait anymore!"

"We're going now, Casey," Leo said grimly. "Any ideas where we should start?"

"Me?"

"Do you know of any places near April's apartment where the Purple Dragons might be keeping them? Anyplace where they regularly hide out?"

Casey's face hardened. "I might know a few."

"So we charge in, kick butt, and make 'em tell us where Don and April are," Raph said, his sai spinning in his hands.

"That's the idea," Leo said, handing all three of his companions a gas mask, and wedging his own between his belt and his body.

A grim silence settled over them as the Battle Shell raced through the streets of New York, with Leo's hands clamped tightly to the steering wheel. Casey was crouched at his side, giving him directions as they sped to an abandoned building a few miles from April's store. A wide, dark building with boards and sheets of plywood nailed over its broken, cloudy windows, it looked like a dead face to Leo.

"This the place?" Raph said, peering out.

"Might be," Casey grunted. "It's the closest Purple Dragon hideout to April's place, so maybe they brought 'em here."

Leo glanced back at the rear of the Battle Shell, where he had left Don's bo. "Let's go."

He didn't even hesitate when they came to the boarded-up doorway, ramming his shoulder through it and letting his shell take the brunt of the impact. His swords were already out in his hands, and he could hear Raph's gravelly growl and the whir of Mikey's nunchaku as they followed him inside. Casey had just donned his hockey mask, and was behind them with a hockey stick held in the air.

The interior of the building was mostly one large empty room, with thick metal pillars holding up the ceiling. Thin shafts of light pierced the gloom from the broken windows, enough light to see the dozen or so Purple Dragons arrayed around the room — maybe fourteen young men, armed with chains, makeshift clubs and metal pipes. Leo smirked. They would be easy to defeat.

"Goongala!" Casey bellowed.

At his cry, the three Turtles launched forward through the room, their weapons glinting in the faint light as they thrashed their way through the Purple Dragons. The Dragons were street fighters, thugs who relied on superior numbers and brutality to win their fights — so it was easy for Leo to anticipate every move they made, deflect every strike possible.

A thick pipe swung by his head, grazing his shoulder, and Leo swiftly cut the makeshift weapon in half. The Dragon holding it responded by throwing the remains of the pipe at him, but Leo easily deflected it with his katana, slashing it in half once again. Reversing his grip on his sword, he hammered it into the man's jaw.

Mikey was leaping and soaring past a cluster of Dragons, his nunchaku yanking their boards and bats from their hands. And Raph and Casey were taking on the biggest of them — a massive Dragon who looked as though he ate steroids for breakfast, with bulging reddened muscles. The man was roaring and lashing out, only to find Raph pummeling his head and Casey whacking him in the gut with a cricket bat.

He heard the whisper of another opponent coming up behind him, and whirled around to seize the assailant's throat before he could strike. A knife fell from the man's hand.

"Where are they?" Leo growled.

"… wh… who?" the Dragon babbled.

"The other Turtle and the woman. Where are they?"

"I dunno what you're talking abo—"

Leo punched him, sending him crashing to the floor. As he turned around, he saw that the massive Dragon had fallen to the floor, with Raph perched on his back like a mountaineer.

"That was disappointin'," Raph declared, spinning one of his sai before depositing it in his belt. "Barely put up a fight."

"Let's search the place," Leo said, sheathing his swords.

He headed for the skeletal stair that led to the second floor, a shadowy place with only a few windows. If April and Donnie were anywhere, they would be there. As he stepped into the wide-open room, he saw dark shapes clustered against the far wall, and his heart leaped. But as he came closer, he saw that they were piles of plastic bags filled with… well, he wasn't sure, but they were probably drugs.

Leo prowled every corner of the room, listening and watching intently. But there was no one here. His heart sank as he descended the staircase, and found Casey and his brothers waiting anxiously there. He shook his head.

"So what should we do with these guys?" Mikey said. "Gift-wrap 'em?"

"Call the police as soon as we get back to the Battle Shell," Leo said grimly. "We'll let them handle what's left here. Casey, take us to the next hideout. We have a lot of ground to cover."


	15. The Second Violation

They came for Don again a few hours later.

April flinched as she heard that steel door opening, creaking on its hinges. Her stomach twisted itself into a tight knot, and her fingers closed tightly around Don's limp ones. With a tremble, his fingers brushed against her palm, a caress that slowed her heart and breath, trailing softly over her skin like the touch of the wind.

He was looking at her with those dark eyes, a strange expression that she couldn't identify rising in their depths. It was something she had caught a glimpse of occasionally — something so warm and bright that his eyes nearly glowed, but also something painfully melancholy. Now she saw it in full, and it made her heart hurt. She wanted to grab him, to squeeze that sadness from him until nothing of it was left…

"Ready for round two, freak?"

She stiffened at the sound of Racer's voice. He was leaning against the bars, a wide, toothy smile crossing his face. As she looked up at him, he licked his lips and let his eyes roam over her breasts in their thin T-shirt, her legs in their shorts.

Don must have seen it as well, because he suddenly heaved onto his side, clutching at the mattress with nerveless hands. "Don't touch her," he said breathlessly.

Racer shook his head slightly, his smile fading and a gleam entering his dull black eyes. "I'd've thought you'd have figured out how it works already," he said, his voice becoming cold and quiet. "No talking back. No orders. I make the rules here, not a worthless freak like you."

Don stared back at him defiantly. April could feel a tremble pass through him, and she wasn't sure if it was only the effort of trying to move, or whether part of it was fear. And after what Racer had done to him… the sight of the rape was burned into April's memory as if the Dragons had branded her. She still couldn't believe that had happened. Where were the other Turtles? Why was it taking them so long to get there?

She slipped her hand over his, feeling the tendons tensing as she touched him. His eyes went to her briefly then, and she saw something in their depths that frightened her — a raw, hollow look that had never been there before. Her heart ached at the sight, and suddenly all she wanted to do was fight Racer and the other Dragons, protect him from being hurt ever again.

The cell door squeaked as it opened, and Racer moved inside with the same three Dragons as before. April crouched down beside the mattress, her fists clenched, ready to lash out the moment they touched Don.

"April," the Turtle whispered. "Don't…"

His hand darted out and grasped her wrist, pulling her back. His eyes were pleading with her, and that hollow expression had intensified.

"Don't fight them for me," he whispered.

"Listen to the freak, lady," Racer smirked. "Darts, grab her. Keep her away."

Suddenly April felt a heavy hand grabbing her neck from behind, lifting her from the mattress like a rag doll. She lashed out with her legs and fists, only to feel a thick, ropy-muscled arm curling around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides. Twisting and jerking, she tried desperately to get free, her eyes following Racer.

"Please," she begged. "Please don't hurt him!"

"Well, he didn't learn his lesson last time," Racer drawled, grinning at her. "So he's going to find out what happens when he tries to tell me what to do. You're lucky — you get to watch the whole thing."

His bony hand seized the knot of Donatello's mask and yanked his head back, a ragged breath coming from the Turtle's throat. April's hands itched to grab Racer and tear him away from Donnie, to rip at his face with her nails, to beat him to the floor with her fists. But Darts's arms were like iron bands holding her in place, and all she could do was twitch against him, feeling hot tears forming in her eyes.

"Put him up against the bars," Racer demanded, his hands already busily unbuckling his belt.

April winced as Don's body was hauled upright and thrown against the prison bars, his plastron scraping against the steel. She could see his hands gripping the bars loosely as Mace and Eye held him immobile, his head resting forward so that he was staring at the floor. He couldn't even fight them, not even a little bit.

Not again. They couldn't be doing this to him again…

As if hearing her thoughts, his head turned slowly, haltingly, his dark eyes fixing on hers. And she remembered her promise to him, to look away when it happened, until it was all over. He had made her promise, no matter what.

Racer was already behind him, that savage grin on his face as he whispered, "I ain't gonna be gentle this time, freak."

April closed her eyes, feeling her tears squeezing through her eyelids and coursing down her cheeks. She knew Donatello didn't want her to cry — he had told her as much — but she couldn't help it. The thought of what he was suffering, the way he was trying to be brave for her sake, tore at her heart like steel claws. All she wanted was to protect him, but she couldn't even do that much.

Though her eyes were closed, she couldn't plug her ears. She knew that it had happened when she heard Don gasp — a painful, ragged gasp that he normally would have not uttered — followed by a bestial grunt from Racer. She knew what those sounds meant, and it made her stomach churn. Then there were other sounds — the sound of skin scraping against skin. The hollow metallic thud of Don's body being pushed against the bars, over and over again, faster and harder each time. Laughs and snickers from the other Purple Dragons as they mocked Don.

"I think you need to go harder, Racer. He ain't made noise yet."

"Yeah, make him scream. Then you'll know he had a good time."

Racer laughed at that, and Don uttered another broken gasp.

April ground her teeth as she tried desperately not to hear Don's gasping, his struggles not to cry out, the sneering voices of the Dragons. He didn't want her to hear, to see. He had made her promise not to. But a raw, wild part of her, deep inside, wanted to look just to punish herself — if it hadn't been for her presence, he wouldn't be suffering this way…

Then came the dull thud of a fist striking flesh, and Racer hissed loudly, "Scream, you miserable freak. I'll keep doin' this until you do."

But Don remained stonily silent, his heavy breathing the only sound he made as he was raped.

Then Racer's voice purred, "Make some noise, or the woman's next. I'll make you watch, knowin' you could have saved her."

And Don made a sound — a raw, painful moan that wrenched at April's heart. She strained against Darts' immovable arms, aching to get to Don, to shield him from all that pain.

"Good boy. Good freak," Racer said, his savage grin audible in his voice. "Maybe I'll actually leave her alone. For now."

Another clatter of Donatello's plastron against the bars, and a grunt that ended in a gasp. April squeezed her eyes shut even harder, squirming against Darts as she listened to Don's harsh breathing. How much longer could this go on? How much longer were they going to torture him?

It felt like hours — days — before she heard Racer groan, followed by the dull thud of fists meeting flesh, and then the sound of a shell crashing to the concrete floor. Without thinking, she opened her eyes. Racer was just zipping his pants up, a wild gleam in his eyes. Don was sprawled at his feet, his hands clutching desperately at the bars, his sides heaving, pain written across his features.

"Don!" April struggled against Darts again, and this time he let her go.

She dashed to Don's side and rolled him onto his shell, against her body. She felt him flinch violently as her fingers touched him, but once he realized it was her, he clutched at her for support. She cradled his head against her shoulder, propping up his torso and wrapping her arms securely around him, holding him as close as she could. In return, she felt three-fingered hands resting against her arms, digging fingertips into her flesh. She could feel hot tears burning their way down her face, before trickling over Don's head.

"Next time," Racer said, "you'll shut up and do what you're told."

April ducked her head down as the cell door swung shut again, pressing her cheek against Don's. She waited until the footsteps had faded away to ask faintly, "Are you all right?" She already knew the answer.

"F—fine," Don murmured.

But she knew he wasn't fine. She heard the faint quaver in his voice, saw the raw expression in his eyes. Swallowing back more tears, she held him tighter against her, whispering empty words of comfort.

Where were the other Turtles? Why was it taking so long for them to rescue their brother?


	16. What's Coming Next?

April awoke to the sound of dripping water on concrete, and the soft breathing from the body beside her. For a single fuzzy moment, she thought she had fallen asleep in the lair again — that would explain the hollow echo of the dripping water — but then she felt the three-fingered hand loosely twined with her own. Don's hand.

And then it all came flooding back.

"Don!" she gasped, scrambling up to her knees. He was lying where she had left him, back on his shell, with his head turned against his shoulder to look at her.

"I didn't want to wake you up," he said softly.

"I shouldn't have been asleep," April said, gripping his hand. Guilt flooded through her heart as she moved closer to him — she hadn't been able to protect him from Racer, and now she had fallen asleep rather than watching over him, trying to comfort him as best she could. "I'm sorry, Don…"

His only response was a gentle squeeze of her fingers, and a faint crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes. April felt a wrench inside her chest, and it took all of her self-control not to cry. She wanted to tell him that everything would be all right, that she wouldn't let that monster come near him a third time… but she knew that nothing was all right, and she wasn't strong enough to fight the Dragons on her own. Their only hope was that his brothers would find them, but she had the feeling that time was running out.

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, and suspected Don didn't know either — there was no way of telling time in this cell. They could have been trapped there for a few days, as far as she knew.

So she let her head rest against his shoulder again, and gently rubbed her thumb in circles against his hand. His warm, slightly spicy scent flooded her senses, and she could feel him moving his head to rest against hers, his breath stirring her hair as he exhaled. It made April shiver slightly, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

She wasn't sure how long they lay like that, but it seemed as though hours had passed when she heard a voice coming from outside the cell.

"He's coming tonight." It was Dragon Face.

April stiffened, and slipped her hand from Don's. Silently she crept to the end of the cell, close to the door, and listened as carefully as she could.

A cold prickle ran over her skin as she heard Racer chuckle. "Well, I guess he'll take the Turtle off our hands."

"We were supposed to have all four. Instead, the other three are beatin' up Purple Dragons all over the city."

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Get out there and find them before the client comes."

Racer scoffed. "You really expect me to know where they're gonna hit next? It took a tip-off and hours of surveillance to catch just one of 'em."

"Then you handle the transaction," Dragon Face said acidly. "Turn over the Turtle and explain that you didn't even try to capture the other three."

"I dunno why you're so uptight about this. The other three'll come here to us sooner or later. A little gas, and they'll be in the same boat with the one we already got."

"And what about the woman?"

"What about her?" Racer said. "We had to take her so she wouldn't alert the other freaks. I thought we'd keep her around for the boys. Some of 'em get real lonely."

April shuddered, her fingers gripping the bars tightly. Her heart was racing as she crept back to the wall, where Don was waiting for her. His expression showed that he had heard the conversation as well — his eyes were blazing with anger at what Racer had said about her, and she could see that he was trying to move his paralyzed limbs. She pressed her hands to his trembling arms, feeling the muscles bunching helplessly under her fingers.

"April…" he whispered.

"Yes, Don?"

"Help me sit up."

April's stomach lurched, and she glanced back at the open door that led to Racer and Dragon Face. The last time she had helped Don sit up, it had all gone wrong after that — Racer had found them, and then Don had attacked him to save her… and then the rape. "All right, but… don't get any ideas about fighting anyone," she said in a low voice.

"I couldn't if I tried," Don said darkly.

April knelt beside the mattress and wound her arms around Don's torso, digging her fingers into his hard, smooth shell. As she pulled him up, she felt his arms weakly moving against her back, an involuntary caress as he tried to hang on to her. She could feel his chest heaving with the effort, pressing gently against her breasts with every breath. Forcing herself to focus on what was going on, she grunted and pulled harder at him.

When she finally had him sitting upright, she let his shell rest against the rough cinder-block wall, allowing him to be propped up rather than having to support himself. Don let out a deep sigh of relief, his head falling back against the wall, his eyes looking down at her with a glimmer of their old warmth. April found her hand moving up to his face, stroking his cheek gently, wanting to comfort him as best she could, however she could…

Then she saw his eyes harden, and drew back in confusion. It took a few seconds for her to realize that he was looking over her shoulder.

"Ain't that cute?" Racer's voice sneered from behind her.

April stiffened, and felt a tremor pass through Don's body as he tried to move again, a faint gasp coming from him as he failed.

"You, the redhead," Racer called. "Come over here."

April huddled down beside Don, casting a look over her shoulder at the door of the cell. Racer was leaning against it, his eyes narrow and gleaming with malice. Behind him were more Purple Dragons — not only the three who had accompanied him before, but others that April hadn't seen before. All in all, perhaps a dozen of them clustered there — and every one was staring directly at her.

"I said come here," Racer said, his typical grin wavering.

April remained still.

"You come over here," Racer said, "or I come in there. Make your choice."

"April, don't—" Don breathed, panic in his voice.

But April rose silently to her feet, and turned away from her friend. There was a dull roaring in her ears as she slowly walked across the cell towards Racer, her bare feet almost silent on the concrete floor. But she could still hear Don scrabbling against the wall, his voice desperate as he called out, "April — don't go to him — please —"

She felt as though she was walking towards a man-eating tiger, but she had to. If nothing else, she might be able to keep him away from Don if she kept him out of the cell, even for a little while.

As she approached him, her head down and her eyes fixed on the floor, Racer's bony hand darted through the bars and seized her throat, pulling her close to the door. She gasped and her hands flew up to pull at his wrist, but his grasp didn't loosen; if anything, he held her tighter than before, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her neck.

"I hope you understand I was just jokin' before," he said in a diseased mockery of politeness.

Despite her fear, April stared at him in disbelief. He had raped her best friend twice, and now he called it a joke?

"You know, about you bein' the freak's girlfriend," Racer continued almost casually, his fingers tightening around her throat. "I know a woman like you wouldn't let an animal like that touch her, no matter how desperate he was."

He pulled April closer, until her cheek touched the iron bars. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Don, still crouched against the wall, his sides heaving and his limbs trembling. His eyes were fixed on her, desperate and burning with fear — not for himself, but for what he believed Racer was about to do to her if he didn't distract him. But April couldn't let him do that. Not again. Not knowing what Racer would do to him if he tried.

"So I was thinkin' you could keep me and the boys entertained with a little show," Racer said, his breath hot and stinking on her face. "Call it a performance."

Icy fear speared through April's blood, and she felt her hands begin to shake as she pulled against Racer's grip. Her breath came in gasps, and her eyes flew down to the lock on the cell door, expecting the Purple Dragons to unlock it so they could try to rape her again. And this time, she knew, they wouldn't let Don fight back.

"Oh, not that, not yet," Racer laughed, roughly running his hand over her hair. "No, I've got somethin' a little more exotic in mind. You're going to show us what you can do." His mouth moved closer to her face, and a cold whisper slithered into her ear. "You're going to fuck the freak."


	17. April and Don Together

"What?" April breathed.

"You heard me, Red. We want to watch you fuck that freak, that animal," Racer said, that grin slicing across his face. His eyes glittered with amusement at her expression, then moved almost hungrily across her features as he took in her reaction.

"But I — I can't — " April choked.

He tilted her chin up, silencing her with a grip on her throat. Her breath came in a broken gasp as he ran his thumb over her lips. "You can, lady. And you're going to," he whispered, sounding almost gleeful. "If you don't, I'm gonna have to instead. And I'll be rougher with him than last time." He eyed the cell bars with a thoughtful air. "Maybe I'll put an old pipe inside him this time, nice and deep, and we'll see if he screams for that."

"No — " April said desperately. "Please don't…"

"Then you better get to work," Racer hissed, stroking her face in a mockery of affection. His fingers tangled in her hair as he dragged her face forward, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Now."

He jerked her head back, forcing her to stagger a few steps backward as he released his grip on her hair. April felt her stomach churn as she regained her balance, and for a split second she thought that she might just throw up. This… this _monster_ had raped her best friend in front of her, twice, enjoying the Turtle's misery and pain as he did so. And now he was demanding that she do the same, or else he would hurt Don even more.

As she walked unsteadily through the cell, she felt a hot surge of anger building inside her at what Racer had done — what he was making her do. She had no choice. If she didn't, then Don would suffer even more than he had before… and she couldn't let that happen. She had to protect him from the worst of it.

He was waiting for her, his eyes filled with relief as he saw that she was all right. But then that drained away, replaced with uncertainty as he saw her expression.

Hot tears pricked April's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Don," she said. "We have to do this."

Then she slid her hands into her worn shorts, sliding them easily down her legs and stepping out of them. Don stared at her in bewilderment, his eyes wide as she crawled towards him on the mattress, up over his legs. When she stopped moving, her legs were straddling his hips and her hands cradled his face. "I'm going to make this as easy as I can for you," she said quietly. "Just — let me do the work."

He stared up at her, his eyes still wide. April was pretty sure that he knew what was going on — after all, the Turtles had access to Mikey's movie collection and the Internet, and Splinter had probably told them at least the basics of sex education. But he looked as though he was completely confused by what was happening to him, as if he couldn't believe it.

April leaned down and pressed her lips to his, running her fingers over the hard muscles on his arms. She couldn't protect him from the fact that this was happening at all. But she could try to make it as "normal" as possible for him — caressing his body, kissing him, treating him like a lover rather than a victim, trying to make the experience as pleasant for him as it could be. She could do that much, even though she couldn't do anything more.

She just hoped he was able to respond to her. His body had been flooded with a paralytic — he had been raped — he was being watched by the Dragons — it wouldn't be surprising if he wasn't able to perform. But she didn't want to think about the possibility, and what Racer would do if he couldn't.

When she drew back, Don's plastron was heaving as he breathed hard, his eyes still fixed on hers.

"April, please—" he said hoarsely.

She plunged into a desperate kiss, silencing him with her tongue and her lips. She could feel tears leaking from her eyes as those two words wrenched at her heart. She was hurting him — hurting him to try to save him from further pain. But she forced herself to keep going, running her hands over his broad shoulders and chest, over every inch of his smooth plastron, down to his muscled thighs beneath her, stroking his skin with her fingertips as he began to clumsily reciprocate the kiss.

And she could tell that her kisses and her caresses were having the intended effect. She could feel something pressing between her legs.

"That's right," she murmured against his face. "You've got it now…"

She kissed him once more, gently curling her tongue against his, even as she let her body sink forward to mold against him. Her hips arched downward towards his, sending warmth surging through them both.

"A-April," Don whispered, "I don't — I d-don't — "

But his words trailed off as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gripping the edge of his shell and drawing him close to her body. His weakened arms clung to her back, as if he were in danger of drowning and she was the only thing keeping him afloat. April could feel him breathing against her throat, and she quickly slipped a hand behind his neck to guide his head towards her shoulder.

As he rested against his forehead against her shoulder with a groan, she made sure his gaze was turned towards her, away from the line of Purple Dragons watching them. The last thing he needed was to be reminded that they had an audience, that this mating was not because of love or desire, but because a monster was forcing them to.

"Don't look at them," she said as softly as she could. "Look at me. Look at us. Think about us."

"I'll — try," Don whispered.

Racer laughed then — a cold, cruel laugh, which echoed throughout the cavernous cell. "I think the freak likes it," he sneered. "Keep goin'."

April thought that she had never hated anyone as much as she hated Racer at that moment — for what he had already done to Don, and what he was forcing her to do to him. Her grip on the Turtle's shell tightened, and she bent her head to whisper to him — incoherent, comforting words, telling him that everything was going to be all right.

He trembled and gasped as he slid into her, and despite the paralytic April could feel his entire body stiffening. "That's right," she whispered, caressing his cheek. "Exactly like that…"

"April," Don gasped. "I…"

"Don't try to speak," she murmured, covering his mouth in another kiss. She was trying her hardest to ignore how much her body was enjoying this — enjoying Don — and felt shame bubbling up inside her whenever she remembered that he didn't want this. She hated that she was feeling pleasure from it, from something that could only hurt her dearest friend.

She began to move against him, gently at first, keeping his body solidly pressed against her. They swayed gently together as she kept murmuring to him, tried desperately to distract him from what their bodies were doing. She could feel tears trickling against her throat, and hated herself even more for what she was doing to him.

"You're okay," she whispered, cradling him closer as they moved together. "You're okay… everything is going to be fine…"

His breath was coming in short gasps now, and occasionally he uttered a muffled moan. She could feel his hands gripping at her T-shirt with renewed strength, even as she pressed feverish kisses against his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, and especially his mouth. He made a noise between a sob and a moan as she moved her hands along his heaving sides and chest, stroked at his neck, ran her fingers over his carapace. She felt another wrench of sadness and guilt, and the horrible feeling that Don would never forgive her for what she was doing to him.

"A-April," Don gasped, his body heaving. "April — I — I —"

Then she felt his entire body stiffen and tremble again, deep inside her, and a faint cry of "Ah!" came from his lips. The quivering continued for only a moment, but April held him gently until his body stilled, pressing her lips against his face.

He opened his glass-clear eyes at last, looking at her with a strange expression she didn't recognize. It was as though his heart had been broken, but he had accepted the pain instead of being consumed by it.

That expression in his eyes sent another spear of pain through April's heart, and she could still feel tears tracking down her face. It felt selfish, but she wrapped her arms around him once again, holding him close, cradling his head against her, knowing that she might never have the chance to hold him again… that he might hate her for what she had just done…

Then she felt fingers digging into the back of her neck, and a vicious snarl reached her ears just as she was yanked violently away from the Turtle's body.

"No!" Don cried hoarsely, reaching a trembling hand toward her.

Fingers tangled themselves in her hair, pulling her head back as she was flung back down to the concrete floor. She found herself staring up into Racer's livid face, his teeth bared and eyes blazing.

"Slut," he snarled.

"Y-you made me—" she gasped.

"You weren't supposed to like it," Racer said, planting one of his hands on her throat, pinning her down.

April choked, her fingers locked around Racer's wrist as she tried to push his hand away. Her eyes flew to Don, who had somehow fallen on his hands and knees, and was trying desperately to crawl towards her, but was only shaking and jerking spasmodically. Racer squeezed harder, and black spots began to dance in front of April's eyes.

"Racer," a voice said from outside the cell. "Enough."

Suddenly the pressure was lifted from her throat, and April scrabbled away, coughing and gasping. She crawled towards Don out of instinct, wrapping her arms around him and crouching at his side.

Dragon Face was standing outside the cell, coldly surveying everyone inside it. "You've had enough fun with the prisoners," he informed Racer. "He's about to arrive."


	18. Sarkis

Donatello was exhausted. He hadn't slept in a long time — how many days had he been here? — and had spent much of that time fighting the paralytic with all his strength. His muscles refused to move except for small twitches and quivers, and those small struggles led to painful spasms rippling through his body. He didn't let the pain stop him; he fought through it, as he had fought through… through…

He didn't want to think about what Racer had done to him. But it was always there — a throbbing, dull pain in the core of his body, forcing him to remember. How vulnerable he had been, how weak he had felt… the feeling of Racer's body pressed against his carapace, the heavy hot breaths in his ear, the scraping painful thrusts —

He gritted his teeth and tried to force the thoughts out of his head. There would be time for him to think about this later — someday — but there wasn't now. The mysterious client who had ordered his capture was coming for him now, meaning that soon he would be dead or taken from here. And April would be left alone, at the Dragons' mercy…

April. He felt her arms tightly wound around him, her head resting against his shoulder. She hadn't moved since Dragon Face had made his announcement about the client's impending arrival, clinging desperately to Don like ivy entwining a young sapling. Her fingers dug into his flesh, and her warm breath washed against his throat. But she also didn't look him in the face any longer, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. As if she couldn't bear the sight of him.

Suddenly Don's memories were filled with her soft, slender body pressed against his plastron, her hands caressing him all over, her lips pressed against his as she whispered words of comfort to blot out the jeers of the Dragons… he shut his eyes, feeling pain lancing through him again. He knew that she hadn't wanted it, that Racer had made her do it. The pain in her tear-filled eyes as she had mated with him still wrenched at his soul.

With an effort, he managed to raise his head, and look at the outside of his cell. Dragon Face was leaning against the bars, his face grim. Racer was staring straight at Don — or perhaps at April — with a sullen expression. And the other Dragons were milling around uneasily, their eyes flicking around as they uncertainly waited for the client. They seemed not to know where he was coming from, or where he might appear.

Then a cold breeze seemed to blow through the room, carrying with it the smell of dead, crumbling leaves. The naked lightbulb overhead seemed to grow dim and flicker.

Then he saw them — two clots of darkness pooled on the floor outside the cell. Slowly they began to flow upwards like smoke pouring from a smoldering fire, filling out into shrouded figures that loomed high above the shivering Dragons. They were forming into tall, skeletally thin shadow figures. Figures without faces.

The same as the figure Don had seen in front of the Battle Shell.

Don stiffened, a strangled gasp coming from his throat. Beside him, April jerked suddenly as if someone had poked her with something sharp. She was staring wide-eyed at the specters, with the same look of terrified recognition that Don suspected he had on his own face.

Then a swirl of blue energy appeared on the concrete wall facing the cell, growing larger and more intense with every passing second. In less than a minute, it had expanded to the size of a door, and stretched from the floor to the water-stained ceiling.

Don raised his head with an effort — his neck muscles were still stiff — and grunted softly as he saw the energy portal. He could feel April's fingers clutching his hand, and all he could do was hold her hand back, trembling slightly as he did so.

A faint shadow appeared in the center of the portal, growing darker and clearer as it approached, until a tall, thin figure stepped out into the dank room. He had a stark, bony face with a narrow beard trimmed close to his face, and eyes like black pebbles. His heavy brocaded robe swished the ground around his feet, with many tiny copper amulets tinkling gently from where they had been sewn into the sleeves. Around his neck was another amulet of smoky glass and obsidian, which glittered slightly in the dimmed light.

Another tremor passed through Donatello's body as he tried to look more closely at the man. This was the mysterious person who had hired the Purple Dragons to capture him and his brothers? He had been expecting someone like the Shredder, or some other enemy that the Turtles had made during their various adventures. Someone he knew.

But he had never seen this man before in his life. And he was sure that he would have remembered him — the cold, penetrating eyes and gaunt, high-boned face were very striking.

The robed man slowly turned towards the Purple Dragons. "Dragon Face," he said in a deep, rolling voice. "I have returned at the appointed time."

Dragon Face stepped forward. His face was unusually pale, and his tattoo stood out starkly. "Yeah, Sarkis," he said.

"Baron Sarkis, please," the robed man said . "You have the mutant turtles I contracted you to capture?"

"We got one of 'em," Racer said confidently.

Sarkis' dark eyes narrowed. "One of them," he said.

"We're going to get the other three soon," Dragon Face said quickly. "They'll come looking for this one, and we'll catch 'em then."

"That was not our agreement," Sarkis said.

"You didn't give us a time limit," the Dragon said. "We're gonna get them all for you. Soon."

The robed man was silent for a moment, but eventually nodded. "Show me the Turtle," he commanded.

Don closed his eyes. He was tired. So tired. He didn't want to fight anymore — he just wanted to let his aching body melt into the floor and slip into unconsciousness. But as rough hands suddenly seized his arms, yanking him off the mattress, he still grunted and tried desperately to brace himself against them. A spasm traveled up his rigid spine, and his legs moved limply under him like pieces of meat as he was dragged onto the floor.

"No!" he heard April cry, and felt her fingers being pried off his shell. Then other hands — hands with thick fingers and torn nails — seized his biceps and hauled him up onto his knees. One more hand grabbed the back of his neck and yanked his head back. His eyes fluttered open on reflex, and he found himself staring up into the cold, pebble-like eyes of Sarkis.

"Take a look," Racer said smugly. "Just what you asked for. Still alive, though we roughed him up a little." His smile was as long and sharp as a newly-sharpened sword.

Sarkis looked down thoughtfully at the Turtle, stroking his thin beard with a long forefinger.

"So this is the mutant turtle?" he said slowly.

"One of them," Dragon Face said.

The sorcerer moved closer to Don, and his two shadowy attendants moved with him. Don gritted his teeth as their cold presence seemed to leech the warmth from his skin, leaving a numb chill that bit into his body like a lungful of frosty air. They were even more unnerving close-up, with their faceless heads looming over him, and their smoky immaterial bodies billowing like pillars of smoke.

But even colder was Sarkis' gaze, his piercing eyes staring straight into Don's. The Turtle felt naked and exposed, as though he had been stripped of his belt and pads and left staked to the ground in a field. Sarkis examined his features carefully, as if memorizing every one, then placed his long cold fingers on his face and turned it slowly from side to side.

Then his gaze moved down to Donatello's body, tracing over his muscled arms and legs, his broad shoulders, the heavy shell on his back. Don felt every piercing look as if it were Sarkis' cold hands poking at him, and they made him shudder slightly, as far as his body could.

Finally Sarkis straightened, and his black eyes became even colder. He swung around to stare at Dragon Face.

"This isn't the right one," he announced.


	19. The Argument

Dragon Face blanched. "But — you said you wanted a mutant turtle," he said, confused.

"Yes, but this is not the one I want. He's too old."

"Too old? He ain't more than a kid."

Sarkis made a dismissive gesture. "He is nearing manhood, if such a term can be used for such a creature. I am searching for one who would still be a child years hence."

Unable to move, Don could only look at the sorcerer in confusion. He and his brothers were the only mutant turtles in the world, as far as he knew. This sorcerer seemed to know of their existence, but not anything about them — and he was searching for something that, as far as Don was aware, didn't exist. At least, it hadn't for many years, since he and his brothers were small.

Sarkis slowly turned around, his icy eyes piercing through each of the Dragons in turn. "Are any of the other three younger than the one you have here?" he asked ominously.

"N-no, sir," one of the Dragons babbled. "They're all the same age, or at least look it."

Sarkis' long thin brows knit together, and his voice became even colder. "Then I do not need them."

The declaration seemed to echo through the room like a thunderclap, and was greeted with silence. Racer's eyes widened until his pupils became like pinpricks, and he took a shaking breath — though Don wasn't sure if he was outraged by this sudden dismissal, or delighted by the news that Sarkis didn't need him. If Sarkis wasn't planning to take him, then that meant he would find himself at Racer's mercy once again. And this time, he knew, it would not end just with rape.

Dragon Face's reaction was far less ambiguous — his pallid face flushed so deeply that his dragon tattoo seemed to fade into his skin. "Are you sayin' you're not paying us?" he said in a deadly whisper.

"You will be paid for the one you have captured," Sarkis said dismissively, folding his thin arms, the amulets tinkling gently against one another. "Though I care not what you do with him. Kill him, toss him into the street — it shall be as you wish. As for the other three, your services will no longer be required."

"You think you can hire us to catch all four and just skip out on payin' for three of 'em?" Dragon Face hissed.

Sarkis' pebble-like eyes slowly turned towards the Dragon. "Had you not failed to capture all four, you would have been paid accordingly. Our deal is over. Now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Don could see April squirming in some Dragon's hold, until she finally managed to wrench herself free. A few seconds later, he felt her arms slipping around him from behind, her delicate hands brushing his chest. The hands gripping his arms released him suddenly, and he fell limply against April, wincing as his shell thudded against the front of her slender body. He was heavier than she was, and he didn't want to hurt her by falling on her, even if it was only from his knees.

But she seemed to have been prepared for it, bracing herself as she settled him back against her chest. His head was resting against one of her shoulders, and for one brief moment her face was turned towards his, her green eyes wide with concern and tendrils of damp red hair clinging to her pale cheeks. He could smell the sweat that still clung to her body — both her sweet sharp scent and his own, entwined together.

But then a strange, sickened expression crossed April's face, and she quickly looked away from him, though her arms were still tightly wrapped around his chest. His heart constricted at the look in her eyes, but there was nothing he could say — nothing he could do — to erase what had happened. Their coupling had taken place less than half an hour before, but clearly it had hurt April so deeply that she couldn't even bear to look at him.

He closed his eyes, and tried desperately to raise his hand to touch hers. But all he could do was sag against her, his face brushing her throat. Her fingers tightened against his plastron, pulling him closer to her. He wanted to wrap himself in her presence, to lose himself in her arms, to shut out the world around them.

But Sarkis' cold voice pierced through the warmth that surrounded him. "I have no further need of your services. If you wish, you may be my servants should I have some function for you to fulfill in the future. But for now, you are no use to me."

Dragon Face snarled, his face twisting as he took a step towards the sorcerer. Behind him, the Dragons raised fists and primitive weapons in support of their current leader. They were idiots, Don thought hazily, watching as they grouped roughly to attack. Sarkis was clearly out of their league if he could form gateways and summon shadow monsters, but they thought they had a chance at using brute force against them.

The two shadowy figures suddenly grew taller and thicker, gaining mass and billowing coils of misty shadow across the floor. Their faceless heads loomed over the Dragons, and they suddenly made sounds — a blurry, wild noise like the sound of wind blowing over rooftops during a storm. The air grew colder, and frost began to bloom across the steel bars of the cell, the knives and chains of the Dragons. Some of them dropped their weapons in alarm.

Don felt April's arms tighten around him, and he buried his face in the side of her throat. He wanted to sleep even more desperately before — to just give up the struggle and find oblivion wrapped in her arms, her warmth.

"In your place, I would not be so unwise as to attack one guarded by shadow demons," Sarkis said ominously. "They could rend you asunder in a heartbeat." He lowered his head slightly. "Payment for this one Turtle will arrive shortly. If you find news of another — a child — then you will know how to contact me. But do not try my patience, Dragon Face. It will not end well for you."

The blue energy swirling in the wall flared brightly, stretching over the stained cinder blocks until the wall was dominated by it. With a flick of his flowing robe, Sarkis strode into the gateway, fading into a darkened shape as the crackling gateway began to slowly recede, until it was nothing but a flicker of blue light on the grey surface.

And the shadow demons seemed to melt away, dropping back to the floor and slowly dissolving like patches of smoke. The Dragons watched in consternation as they vanished completely, leaving only a pervasive chill as a sign that they had ever been there in the first place.

Dragon Face muttered curses under his breath, and swung to stare at the other Dragons, eyes glittering with malice. "He isn't going to get away with this," he said in a cold, deadly voice. "Not after the risks we took. I don't care what tricks he can do."

A murmur of agreement ran through the room, but most of the Dragons looked too unnerved to react. An undercurrent of fear rippled through the eyes of some of the men there, and Donatello wasn't sure if it was fear of Sarkis or fear of the repercussions of their actions.

"What we doing with the freak and the woman?" Racer asked.

"Whatever you want. I don't care," Dragon Face snarled.

Racer's eyes flew to April and Don, and Don tried not to shudder at the glee he could see in the man's grin. Before he had had to make sure he didn't kill Don, but that restriction had been lifted now. Now he could unleash whatever sadistic desires he wanted on the Turtle. And by the way Racer was fondling his knife, Don had the feeling he was already dreaming something up.

And April… April was still trapped here as well, surrounded by the Purple Dragons. Every one of Don's fears for her safety rushed back into his mind like a flash flood. It had only been a half hour since Racer had tortured her by forcing her to mate with a mutant turtle, but Don had no doubt that the Dragon would want to rape her himself before too long. And given his past threats, Don had no doubt that he would be forced to watch every second of it, helpless to stop it, too drugged to move.

He pressed his face against April's throat, and felt her turn her head so that her lips brushed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hating his own weakness.

"I know," she said in a faint, choked voice.

He felt her stiffen suddenly, and her hands tightened on him. For a moment, he steeled himself for the sound of Racer's voice taunting him, for the feel of hands ripping the two of them apart.

But instead he heard the sound of concrete being smashed, the screams of Purple Dragons outside the cell, and a very loud horn blaring.


	20. To The Rescue

The Battle Shell jolted violently as the wall crumbled before it, and Leonardo was almost thrown from his seat. He grasped the wheel to steady himself as dust and chunks of concrete bounced off the reinforced windshield, and more dull thunks and clatters sounded on the armored sides of the truck. With a downward swing of his arm, Leo sounded the horn to disorient whoever was outside the vehicle.

"Masks on?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, we got 'em," Raph responded, his voice slightly muffled by the gas mask.

Leo unsheathed his katanas as the rear door opened, and the three Turtles and Casey Jones leaped out into the supposedly-abandoned warehouse. Through the cloud of concrete dust, he could see the shapes of Purple Dragons staggering away from the Battle Shell, coughing and shielding their faces. Casey let out his customary cry of "Goongala!" and charged out into the cloud, swinging a bat in each hand.

This was the place. It had to be. It was the last place that Casey knew of; if Don and April weren't here, then Leo had no idea where they were going to search next. Desperation welled up in him as he slashed his way past the Dragons, knocking pipes and long knives out of their hands. He elbowed and kicked them in the face and stomachs, whirling through the gray dust and slashing at every weapon brought to bear.

Finally he descended on one of them, pinning him to the floor with one foot. "I want some information," he shouted, brandishing his katanas.

The man sniveled below him, his eyes tearing from the concrete dust, from fear, or some combination of both.

"Where are they?" Leo demanded. "The other Turtle and the woman?"

"I-in the b-back," the Dragon whimpered.

Leo's heart hammered against his ribs, and for a second he was overwhelmed by relief that his brother and April were here after all — and apparently alive. He kicked the Dragon away and looked through the room for some sign of a back room — the warehouse was large and filled with heavy metal shelves, which blocked the view of the surrounding walls. They had to find where the other rooms were… and Leo had a feeling they had to find them fast, before the Dragons did anything to them.

"Goongala!" Casey roared, leaping past Leo with his hockey stick in hand.

Leo swung around, looking desperately for his brothers. Raph was battling half a dozen Purple Dragons at the same time, his eyes burning with rage as he slashed and stabbed at them with his sai. He was too heavily involved with battle to break away, even though he seemed in no danger of losing. On the other hand, Mikey had just spun past a pair of other Dragons, crashing his nunchaku into their skulls and probably leaving them with nasty concussions. He sprang over them, landing sideways on a set of shelves, and grinned down at the results of his fight.

"Mikey, they're here!" Leo shouted. "Get looking for a back room!"

He worried that Mikey wouldn't hear him over the shouts and clang of steel, but the other Turtle swung around the edge of the shelves and raced off into the shadows.

Leo prepared to follow him, but just then he saw a small dark object being thrown into the middle of the battle — and a yellowish haze began billowing from the grenade, pouring through the room like a poisonous mist. He swung around, eyes fixed on the darkened shapes that were suddenly pouring out of nowhere, gas masks affixed to their faces. He just hoped Mikey made it past them.

 

April clutched at Don tighter, so tightly that her arms were growing numb. She could feel him straining to remain upright, feel the wash of his warm breath against her throat. Outside the cell, they could both hear the sound of fighting, and Purple Dragons were already pouring out of the cell to reach the battle outside.

"April," Don said hoarsely, "go. Get out before they close the cell."

She lowered her head and shook it.

"April, please go—"

"I'm not leaving without you," April said fiercely, closing her eyes. She didn't want to see Don's face as he pleaded with her to leave him behind. Didn't want to see his eyes, shining and clear, as he asked her to save herself.

She couldn't bring herself to look at his face, even though they were so close together. Every time she saw him, she felt sickened by herself — by what she had done to him. And she was afraid of seeing that expression in his eyes —the pain, the heartbreak — aimed at her again, and knowing she was the cause. She couldn't bear to see it, but she also couldn't leave him behind, surrounded by monsters like Racer. She wouldn't let him go without a fight, even if he could never look at her the same way again.

Besides, she thought bitterly, she deserved to be trapped in this place for what she had done. She had practically forced herself on him, even if she had been threatened into it. There must have been some other way she could have saved him from Racer, if she had just been calmer and thought harder…

The cell door clanged shut, and she heard the sound of the lock clicking into place. Don seemed to go limp against her, and she heard him sigh.

"I'm not leaving you," she repeated, clutching him closer.

"You should have," he breathed. "You know — what they'll do to you —"

"Even if I get out of this cell," April said, "I don't think they'd let me escape."

Every word he said was like a splinter of glass in her heart. He had been through so much, suffered so much, but he was still only concerned with what the Dragons would do to her. He even wanted her to leave him behind, as long as she was able to escape — even knowing that torture and death were in his future as long as Racer was there.

He should resent her. Hate her, even. He had only been raped by Racer because he had tried to shield her from that fate, and she had repaid him by forcing him. April felt hot tears brimming in her eyes as she shifted downwards, resting the side of her face against his shoulder. In response, Don grunted softly, and she felt him move slightly towards her and rest his head against hers, his cool smooth skin pressing softly against her hair.

"Don," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

But she didn't know if he heard her, because just then something exploded in the rooms beyond the cell, followed by the dry clatter of falling concrete and dust. April stiffened and raised her head, her eyes wide. She hadn't thought that the Dragons had bombs or anything that could explode in this place — or had whoever was attacking brought the explosives with them?

The air was suddenly loud with the cries of Purple Dragons attacking, the thud of bodies, the sound of wood being smashed. She heard Donatello's breath quicken as the battle picked up steam, although she wasn't sure whether he was anxious or trying to figure out a way to turn this to their advantage.

Then she heard a familiar cry ring out through the building.

_"Goongala!"_

"Casey?" April whispered. If Casey was here, then that meant the Turtles were as well…

She inched towards the bars, pulling Don along with her, until she could hear the conflict outside more clearly. She thought she heard the clang of swords against metal outside, a familiar-sounding roar, and something that frightened her almost as much as the Dragons — the cracking, crumpling sound of fire licking at flammables.

Fear blossomed inside her at the sound. She wasn't sure if the fire would reach the cell — the building seemed to be mostly made of concrete — but the fumes might be enough to kill them if they didn't escape. And with no reason left to keep them alive, the Dragons would probably leave her and Don to die rather than take the risk of rescuing them.

Then a familiar voice called out, "April? Don? Where are you guys?"

"Here!" she shouted at the top of her voice. "We're in here!"

And a dark figure appeared in the doorway, his orange mask visible through a gas mask.


	21. Breakout With Mikey

A yellowish mist flowed past the entryway into the cell, followed by a familiar green figure wearing a transparent gas mask. April's heart leaped as Mikey sprang down towards the door, his eyes wide behind his mask.

"Mikey!" April gasped. "Thank God!"

"Mikey," Don said weakly.

"Never thought I'd be involved in a jailbreak," Mikey said, brandishing one of his nunchaku. With all his strength, he brought it down to bash at the locking part of the door.

April flinched as he hit the door twice — three times — four times. The metal bent and deformed with every hit, and on the sixth hit it finally crumpled away from its frame. Mikey grabbed the bent metal and slammed the door open, but stopped short as he saw Don on his knees, limply leaning against April, his eyes half-closed.

"What the shell happened?" he gasped.

"They injected him with a paralytic," April said desperately, looping one of Don's arms over her shoulders. "He can't move."

For a moment Mikey seemed to take in the sight of his brother sagging almost to the floor, his usually mirthful eyes suddenly serious and dark. Then he dashed forwards and seized Don's other arm, hauling his brother almost effortlessly alongside him. "Can you stand up, Don?" he said earnestly, leaning down as Dons head fell against April's shoulder.

"Can't…" Don groaned. "Can't move my legs."

Mikey responded by moving in front of Don, squatting and pulling his brother's arms around his neck. The paralyzed Turtle collapsed forward on his carapace with a faint exclamation of pain, but Mikey simply looped his arms under his brother's knees, pulling them up to his hips. April gently moved Don's head so that it was resting comfortably against Mikey's shoulder, trying to keep him from being jostled as he was carried.

His dark eyes opened again, looked at her with that strange, indefinably sad expression. Her fingers trembled against his face, and she quickly moved behind Mikey as he carried his brother out of the cell.

"You just hang on, Don," Mikey said over his shoulder. "We're gonna get you out of here. The Battle Shell's just outside."

"Good," Don murmured. "What took you so long?"

"Traffic was real bad," Mikey said, joking weakly.

It wasn't particularly funny, but April saw a wan smile cross Don's face — more relief that his brother was there to make bad jokes than actual amusement.

She placed a hand on Don's arm, feeling the scrapes from the rough concrete and the bruises from the Dragons' fingers marring his smooth skin. He looked so broken — so worn, so ragged— that she ached to hold him again, now that they knew that the worst was behind them. She wanted to drive that haunting sadness from his eyes, but she knew nothing she could do ever could. And the feelings of guilt came flooding back.

They moved swiftly into the cavernous space beyond the door — an old warehouse with high steel shelves packed with crates and boxes, like most other warehouses. Only the contents of those shelves were on fire — columns of flame licking their way to the ceiling, dropping bits of burning wood and cardboard to rain down on the people below.

And there were a lot of people below. Purple Dragons brandishing whatever weapons they could get their hands on — guns, knives, chains, clubs — and charging in waves at their enemies. They had to step over the bodies of other unconscious Dragons who had already been knocked out and left to lie on the floor.

And judging by the faint yellowish tinge of the air and the familiar stench of the gas grenades, April could tell that someone had tried — unsuccessfully — to gas the Turtles into unconsciousness. She tried to breathe shallowly, just in case enough of the gas lingered in the air to cause unconsciousness. Of course, if the gas didn't get to her, then the fumes of the burning crates and boxes probably would.

Then April felt her heart swell as she saw three other familiar shapes moving swiftly through the warehouse — Casey was there, savagely beating his way through a throng of Purple Dragons with a bat in one hand and a hockey stick in the other. He wasn't particularly restrained when he fought, but he was practically wild now. Leo was racing through the room with his swords out and a fiercely intent look on his face, easily knocking through any Dragons who were stupid enough to get in his way. And Raph…

April felt her heart contract as she saw Raph. He was standing in front of a massive hole in the warehouse wall, smoke billowing around him as he snarled and gripped his sai. And standing not too far in front of him was Racer, holding a rocket launcher, his grin wide and gleaming as madly as his eyes.

"Leo!" Mikey shouted.

April tore her eyes away from Raphael's battle, even though she wanted to scream at him to be careful. But she knew that yelling would only distract him, and he couldn't afford that.

Leo was racing towards them, his face strained and his eyes wide as he saw Don draped over Mikey's shell, his limbs hanging limply and his eyes almost closed. He placed one of his hands on Don's elbow, and was rewarded with a faint twitch and a flicker of Don's eyelids. "Leo," he breathed. "You guys finally came for us…"

"What did they do to him?" Leo said, anger rising in his voice.

April almost spoke, almost blurted out what Racer had done, but a spasm of pain crossed Don's face as Leo spoke. His eyes widened, turning towards April, and she saw pleading in their depths. He didn't want her to tell them what the Dragons had done to him — not yet.

She reached out and grasped his hand, and gave him a tremulous smile, showing him that she understood. She wouldn't tell anyone what had happened to him — it was for him to speak of, or not, whenever he felt it was right. His face relaxed slightly as he saw her expression, and she felt a brief swell of warmth inside her chest at bringing him a little peace amidst all the pain and chaos.

"He's been injected with a paralytic drug," she said quietly to Leo. "He can't move. It'll start wearing off soon, but until then…"

"I understand," Leo said grimly. "Mikey, get him into the Battle Shell. I'll try to get Casey and Raph before the ceiling caves in."

"Before the — ceiling —" April said faintly.

She looked up, and her blood turned to ice water. A long, thick crack had formed in the ceiling overhead, almost perfectly dividing the concrete structure. Smaller cracks were forming on every side of it, with gray dust sifting down as they grew longer, wider, and even smaller cracks spiderwebbed out from them. As April watched, a chunk of concrete fell from the ceiling and landed with a loud crash, smashing to pieces.

Her eyes fell to the walls below the crack — they were riddled with cracks as well. A massive hole had been opened when the Battle Shell had smashed through one of the walls, and Racer's rocket launcher had opened up a few more not too far away. The entire structure was destabilizing, and April didn't have to be an engineer or a construction worker to know that it was going to fall soon. Her stomach clenched in fear, as she looked back at Casey and Raph.

"Come on, April!" Mikey said, nudging her. He hefted Don higher on his back and carried him swiftly towards the Battle Shell. Don groaned softly against the back of his brother's neck, and received a pat on the knee. "You're gonna be okay, bro. We're taking you home."

April felt her heart lurch at Mikey's assurance. He didn't know what Don had gone through — didn't know that it would take more than going home to make him all right again. Her hand clamped around Don's again, as she followed Mikey into the waiting Battle Shell. She just hoped that Casey, Raph and Leo were all right.


	22. What Raphael Heard

Raphael was angry. He was angry a lot of the time, usually about small things — injustices he heard about on the news, Mikey being an idiot, Leo rubbing him the wrong way, someone who had messed with him and his family. Anger was an old friend of his. A familiar companion that walked with him wherever he went. But this anger reached down into the core of his being, drew on every ounce of rage bottled in his soul. He felt as though a river of lava was flowing through him, threatening to sweep him away into violence and mindless fury.

He tightened his grasp on his sai, snarling at the Purple Dragon standing in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and bury his weapons in the man's body — he and all the rest deserved nothing less for kidnapping Donnie and doing who-knew-what to him. If they had hurt Don — if there was even a single scratch on his body — then Raph was going to tear a bloody swathe through their entire gang and no one, not even Master Splinter, would stop him.

Plus, there was something about this particular Purple Dragon's face that got under his skin. He kept grinning at Raph mockingly, as if taunting him.

"So I guess you're here for that friend of yours, huh?" he said.

"My _brother,"_ Raph growled.

"Oh, forgive me. He wasn't very talkative during his stay here," the man said, sarcasm creeping into his voice. "But he was a great houseguest. Real entertaining for all of us."

Raph's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. "Keep runnin' your mouth, and you won't have one left."

A few chunks of concrete fell then, clattering to the pile of rubble that Raph was standing on. He knew that the ceiling was cracking further with every passing minute, and soon the whole roof was going to collapse. But he couldn't leave yet. Not until Don and April were rescued, not until his brothers were all safe.

Then a flurry of motion caught his eye, down at the other side of the warehouse. He saw Mikey carrying Don towards the Battle Shell, draped over his carapace like a sack of flour, with April running a few steps behind him. His purple-masked brother was limp and motionless, his arms hanging loosely over Mikey's shoulders. Raph couldn't tell by looking whether he was conscious, and whether he had been hurt.

But the sight stirred a new blast of white-hot fire inside him. How dare they put a hand on his brother — his gentle, amiable brother, who didn't deserve any of this.

He swung around at the Dragon in front of him, and realized that the rocket launcher was firing just a second before it did. He sprang high into the air and across the rubble-strewn floor, feeling the concussive blast buffet his shell as he landed, throwing him to his knees. More concrete flew and pattered across the warehouse. The steel supports of the warehouse groaned, and the deep cracks in the ceiling and walls grew deeper still.

"You're gonna bring the roof down on us, you crazy idiot!" Raph howled, standing up again.

The Dragon shrugged, still aiming the rocket launcher. "I plan to be outta here before that happens. You won't be so lucky, not once I use this little baby on that armored truck of yours." His smile widened, his teeth seeming to grow sharper. "I was looking forward to capturing all four of you at once, ya know. You're such good fighters, I was thinkin' breakin' you down would be a fun way to spend the day."

"You ain't breakin' anybody," Raph snarled.

"Oh, but I already did," the Dragon said, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "That brother of yours?"

An icy chill went through Raphael, temporarily quenching his rage. He still didn't know what this guy was talking about, but something in those cold black eyes filled him with apprehension. If this — this thug had done anything to hurt Donatello…

"You may have him, but you're not getting him back," the Dragon said, tapping his fingers against the launcher. "Not after what I did to him."

"What did you do?" Raph snarled.

"'Course, I didn't expect one of you mutant freaks to break quite that easy. Cryin' and beggin' the whole time — it was pathetic. He must have screamed himself hoarse." He licked his lips. "Of course, deep down he probably enjoyed every minute of it. Give me a few more days—"

_"What did you do?"_ Raph said, his voice rising like the roar of an avalanche.

The Dragon's eyes glittered maliciously. "Well, let me put it this way — he knows what it's like to be one of my girlfriends now."

It took a moment for the words to fully settle into Raph's brain, and another moment for his conscious mind to fully unravel the implicit meaning of them. He stared at the Dragon with eyes that had widened as far as they could, filling with horror at what he was being told, reeling at what the Dragon was saying to him.

No. It couldn't be. Not Don. Not… not that.

"What's the matter, freak?" the Dragon jeered. "Feeling a little jealous? Upset that I fucked him before you had a chance?"

And the rage came surging back — hot and blistering like lava in his veins, coiling like pythons in his muscles. Raph leaped forward with a howl that came from the depths of his soul, stabbing at the dark-haired Dragon with both of his sai. He could barely think — the rage was clouding his mind to the point where all he could think of was of this… this _creature_ raping his brother.

He wanted the Dragon dead. Not just defeated or arrested. For what he had done to Don, Raph wanted him dead.

His rage blinded him and deafened him — he could hear Leonardo shouting for him somewhere in the distance, but his ears were full of the hammering of his heart, the rush of his blood. his entire mind and being were focused on reducing the Dragon to a heap of bloodied bone and flesh. As he leaped forward, he slashed downward with both sai at the man's head, a snarl contorting his face.

But the Dragon had seen his attack coming — Raph had let his rage dictate how he moved, and left ninja stealth and tactics behind him. The man dodged expertly from Raph's slashes, and swung the launcher like a club, smashing into Raph's side and sending him soaring straight into one of the massive burning shelves. Raph slammed into a crate and slid to the floor, his head spinning, flakes of burning paper falling around him like snowflakes.

He gritted his teeth and fought his way back to his hands and knees, his head ringing like a bell. But he clung to one simple singleminded thought: get to the Dragon and make him pay.

And as he staggered to his feet, he saw the Dragon taking aim at the Battle Shell. The Battle Shell — with Mikey, Don and April inside.

"No!" he bellowed, leaping forward with both sai ready to strike. With all his strength, he threw himself against the launcher and wrenched it upwards.

The next thing he knew, an explosion had gone off overhead, and concrete was raining down in heavy chunks and lumps all around them. Raph grimaced and bent over, keeping his shell turned upwards to the ceiling as it started to collapse. He felt a heavy dull pain sprout in his back as a lump of concrete hit his shell and bounced off, then a spike of white-hot pain in his shoulder as another struck it.

When Raph dared to open his eyes, he found himself looking at a bloodstained pile of rubble, with the Dragon's head and shoulders sticking out. His legs were twisted under a lump of broken concrete, jagged pieces of rebar impaling his bloodied flesh. The human's hands were scrabbling weakly at the ground as he tried to climb out of the rubble, but he wasn't making much progress. He whimpered pitifully — or at least, it might have been pitiful if Raph had even a shred of compassion for him. Blood was pooling under him, and splashed over the rubble.

"Raph!" Leo's voice called. "Raph, it's time to go!"

Ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder, Raph bent down and seized a lump of concrete more than half as large as he was, large and heavy enough that he had to use both arms to heft it to the level of his chest. His lip curled as he moved closer to the Dragon's head, and for a moment he was tempted to simply drop it on the man's skull, crushing it like an egg.

No. He wanted this guy to lie there suffering. He wanted him buried alive in a burning, crumbling ruin. He wanted him to bleed out, crushed to a pulp, knowing that this was all because he had raped Don.

"Raph! The ceiling's coming down!"

"Just a minute!" Raph called, the strain showing in his voice.

He heaved the concrete slab onto the Dragon's bloodied shoulders, pinning him down like a moth under a thumb. There would be no escaping the rubble for this rapist. The man let out a bloodcurdling howl and seemed to crumple under the weight. Raph stood above him, his chest heaving as he looked down balefully at what he had done, waiting for the blood to seep out from under the concrete, waiting for him to stop moving.

Then Raph looked up at the half-wrecked ceiling above them. The rocket launcher had smashed a hole in the roof, deepening the cracks that ran through it. Enormous chunks were slowly creaking down, tearing loose, dust falling as they slowly, inexorably moved downward. At any moment, they would fall onto the trapped Dragon, killing him.

"Raph! Get the shell down here!" Leo shouted.

"Coming!" Raph called, racing down the rubble-filled warehouse, and leaping into the open back of the Battle Shell. He turned as the door began to close behind him, seeing a lump of concrete the size of a car fall towards that pile of rubble, crushing what had been underneath it.

As the Battleshell lurched out, Raph stumbled to where Don was lying on the floor, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

"D-Don," he whispered, hoping against hope that the Dragon had been lying. "Don, are you okay?"

But as his brother turned to him, Raph saw the look in his eyes — and realized that it hadn't been a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews welcomed and much desired!


	23. The Examination

They had Don. They had April. Now it was time to get the shell out of there.

Leo's heart was hammering against his ribs as Raph clambered in the rear door, coated in gray dust and clutching his shoulder as if it pained him. He was going to have to talk to Raph about what had just happened — as far as he could see, his brother had been heaving lumps of concrete onto piles of rubble, even as the ceiling was about to collapse over all their heads. Leo had no idea what Raph had been doing, but it couldn't have been that important.

The Battle Shell moved suddenly forward with a screech of tires and a roar of its powerful engine. Leo lurched into Raph, and had to drop into a crouch to avoid falling on Don. His paralyzed brother was lying flat on his shell on the hard metal floor — not a comfortable position for someone with a curved carapace. April had placed herself above him, her folded legs pillowing his head, and her small hands lightly resting on his shoulders.

Raph whispered something to Don, then collapsed back against the wall of the Battle Shell, his face rigid with rage. It was only then that Leo saw Don's expression — twisted slightly in pain, his breath coming unevenly. April was gently stroking her hand over his forehead, and he closed his eyes every time she did.

Swiftly he removed the first-aid kit from the wall, and crouched down beside his brother. Normally Don served as their doctor, having the most knowledge of anatomy and medicine. But on the occasions when he needed care, Leo tried to step in and do his best. He knew most of the basics about patching up battle wounds, but if they had hurt Don some other way — if they had tortured him —

"Don, I'm going to look you over," he said quietly, placing a hand on his brother's arm. Don flinched slightly at the sudden touch, but quieted as he saw that it was Leo. "Tell me if you're hurt somewhere — tell me what they did to you."

A strange, distant look came into Don's eyes, and his mouth moved slightly before he actually spoke. "Nothing… serious."

But the pain crossing his face said otherwise. Leo inched slightly closer, and began examining Don's neck and head, searching for any gashes or bruises, or even — God forbid — fractures. He felt his brother tremble slightly at the touch, and he tried to examine him more gently, moving down to his shoulders and arms and palpating his muscles and flesh. He could feel some scrapes there, as well as a few bruised spots that made Don hiss slightly in pain when he was touched. Apparently the paralytic didn't dull sensation.

But as he drew back, something caught Leo's eye. During the exam, Don's legs had parted slightly, allowing the skin of his inner thighs to be seen clearly. And on those thighs, Leo could see dark dried rivulets of… something. He moved closer to his brother's legs and groin, feeling his heart begin to race as he saw that the dried substance was blood.

Don's blood. Between his legs.

"Oh, Don," Leo whispered.

A horrifying suspicion had settled into his mind — one that sickened him beyond all belief. They couldn't have — surely even the Purple Dragons weren't that depraved — there had to be some other injury, some way to explain the blood on his legs other than _that._

He laid gentle fingers on Don's legs, pulling them slightly further apart in search of a gash or some other obvious injury. Don quaked again and his breath began coming in deep gasps.

"It's okay, Don," Leo said soothingly, moving back to his brother's side. "It's just me. I have to see what happened, bro — I can't treat you if I don't know what was bleeding."

Don's frantic breathing calmed slightly as he looked up at Leo. His eyes were desperate, but gradually they closed tightly. "Okay," he said at last, gripping at April's hand tightly.

She looked at Leo with pleading eyes. "Be gentle," she said softly.

"As gentle as I can be," Leo promised.

He heard an intake of Don's breath as he gently parted his thighs again, although he had the horrible feeling that he already knew where the blood had come from. He could see now that more blood was caked on the skin where his legs met in the back, around his tail, stemming from the area around his cloaca. The cloaca itself looked as though it had been badly abused — it was swollen and had suffered a few small exterior tears that had bled profusely.

Leo prided himself on his steady hands, but he could feel them trembling against Don's leg and plastron as he saw the damage. He knew what it meant, and the thought that someone had done that to Don… it made his head spin and his stomach churn.

Rape was not something that Leonardo had thought much about — at least, not in relation to himself and his brothers. Splinter had given his sons a rather scattered lecture on sexuality a few years before, when it became obvious to him that they were reaching puberty, and had been asking questions about the women they saw on television and the computer. And though Splinter did not expect his sons to find that kind of love for themselves, he had explained that it must always be freely exchanged. Rape, he had explained to them, was an abominable act, never to be even considered.

Leo had never thought that one of them would be threatened with such a thing. They almost always went places in a group. They were stronger than almost all humans. They were armed and well-trained in combat. And of course, they were man-sized mutant Turtles — strange creatures that humans likely wouldn't try to rape.

But it had happened. Shell, it had happened.

As gently he could, he pushed Don's legs back together, hoping not to draw attention to what he had seen. His brother had gone through enough without being gawked at while he lay helpless in the Battle Shell. But Don winced and made a faint pained noise, and Leonardo withdrew his hands quickly, not wanting to hurt his brother further.

He felt nauseated. His eyes slowly moved up to his brother's face, and saw the discomfort still evident there. But there was something else there — something much worse. There was a haunted, numb pain in his eyes that went further than any physical ache, something broken and raw. And the longer Leo saw it, the deeper the sickness in the pit of his stomach became.

A memory flashed through his head — Don leaving the lair for April's apartment, a light in his eyes despite the seriousness of his mission. Leo had let him go alone — had expected that he would encounter nothing more challenging than an upset April. And then, his desperate call for help less than an hour later, telling them that the Purple Dragons were attacking… and then silence. Silence for almost two days. Now this.

The Battle Shell turned a corner suddenly, and Leo quickly placed a hand on Don's belly, to keep him from sliding. "We're almost home," he said quietly.

"I-I know," Don said shakily.

Leo tried to look encouraging, but he didn't know what to do — what he could do for his brother now. He would talk to Master Splinter about what the best thing to do was when they returned home, because he sure as shell didn't know what it was now.


	24. Back Home

"We're almost there, Don," Leo said softly, as they stepped into the familiar comfort of their lair.

Don groaned. Leo and Raph each one of his arms pulled across their shoulders, keeping him upright as they guided him down into their home. He had recovered enough that he was able to move his legs in a slow shuffle, but not enough that he could do it alone without his knees buckling. Behind them, Mikey was carrying an exhausted April, wrapped in a rather wrinkled blanket that was kept in the Battle Shell for emergencies. Casey followed just behind, his face unusually grave.

Master Splinter came toward them as the elevator doors opened, his eyes wide as he saw Donatello sagging between his brothers. "My son, what has happened?" he said, raising his hands to touch the genius' face.

Don didn't answer, just looked dully at his father — and that lifeless response worried Leo more than anything he could have said or done.

They made their way to the couch in the middle of their living space, which Casey hastily folded out into a bed, and then helped Raph and Leo ease Don onto it. Their brother shuddered as his shell touched the mattress, and his eyes closed in relief. Even though he was the same size as the rest of them, he looked… diminished. Worn-out. As if something had ground him down and left him broken.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Casey asked, concerned.

Raph uttered a growl, and stormed away, almost shaking with fury. Casey looked after him, his face growing grimmer at the strength of his best friend's reactions.

Leo's hands were shaking as he filled a small basin with hot water, and draped a few washcloths and towels over his arm. He still didn't know what he could do for Don — if there even was anything he could do — so he was clinging to one thing he knew Don desperately needed. His brother's body was caked with dust, sweat and blood from his imprisonment, and Leo suspected that he wouldn't be able to bathe himself until at least the next day.

Master Splinter was sitting at Don's side as Leo came back, holding his hand and speaking softly to him. As he saw Leo, the mutant rat rose, whispered something to his wounded son and gently stroked the side of his face, then quietly slipped to where the eldest was standing.

"Is he talking about what happened?" Leo asked hesitantly.

"He has not," Splinter said quietly. "But he has suffered wounds to his spirit as well as his body. Be careful when speaking of what has been done to him."

Leo nodded, and made his way to where Don was lying on his back. When he saw him, Don smiled faintly.

"Hey, Leo," he said.

"I noticed you got a little dirty when you were away," Leo said, dipping one of the washcloths into the water. "Can I clean you up?"

Don nodded, and his eyes clung to Leo's hands as his brother began gently rubbing the cloth over dust and sweat sticking to his body. Leo painstakingly ran the wet cloth over and under Don's left arm, and then his right; after re-soaking the cloth and wringing it out, he began carefully running it between the scutes on Don's belly and chest, wincing as tiny bits of concrete, no bigger than grains of sand, came loose.

Soon the first washcloth was too dirty to continue using, and Leo began running a fresh one along Don's sides, moving it under the edge of his shell to catch any detritus that had lodged there. "How are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," Don said faintly.

"Don, I need to clean you… I need to clean off the blood. Can I do that?"

Don's fingers gripped the couch cushion tightly, but he nodded.

Leo struggled to keep his mind balanced as he began swiftly moving the damp washcloth along the stains on Don's inner thighs. He felt his brother flinch at the touch, saw his leg muscles tense slightly with every swipe of the cloth, but Don didn't make a sound. "Almost done," Leo said, moving his hand up to carefully dab at Don's cloaca. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Don replied quietly, though Leo suspected it hurt more than he was letting on.

As soon as he could, Leo moved his attentions lower, removing some dust and cobwebs from Don's kneepads and his lower legs. Though Don hadn't made a sound aside from a few two-word sentences, Leo could feel some of the tension seeping out of his body as he finally finished cleaning him off.

"That ought to be enough until you can do it yourself," Leo said quietly.

He unfolded a nearby blanket and gently settled it over Don, wrapping it under his arms and around his chest. Don sighed deeply and closed his eyes, letting his head sink back against the cushions. "Thanks, Leo," he said. "I—I really needed that."

There was nothing in his expression or his voice that was out of the ordinary, but Leo heard something that still ran underneath the surface — a fragility that didn't belong in Don's steady, serene voice. His level-headed little brother shouldn't sound that way — shouldn't be this broken, shouldn't have suffered what he had suffered.

For a moment, all Leo could think of was that this wouldn't have happened if he had just gone with Don. If there had been two of them at April's apartment, maybe they could have fought off the Purple Dragons more effectively. Maybe they could have managed to dispose of the gas grenades rather than falling victim to them. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe… maybe… maybe…

His fists clenched. He couldn't help but feel that he had failed Don — that he should have been able to find his brother faster than he had. He and his brothers had spent the last few days tearing through the Purple Dragons wherever they could find them, but it hadn't been enough. Intellectually he knew that he had done everything he could have possibly been expected to do, but… his heart told him that he had failed.

"Don," he said quietly, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We're going to find them. We're going to find the ones who did this to you, and we're going to—"

"He's dead," Raph's gravelly voice broke in.

Don raised his head slightly as Raph stumped down toward him, his face set in grim lines, one hand still pressed to his wounded shoulder. A glimmer of interest had sparked in his eyes. "Raph?" he said softly.

"He's dead," Raph repeated, leaning over the back of the couch to look into Don's face. He shifted uneasily, as if he didn't want to say what he was saying. "He — he said what he did to you when I was fightin' him, Don. I wanted him dead."

"Did you kill him, Raph?" Leo asked.

"Sort of," Raph said, his fists clenching tightly against the couch cushion. "When he tried to blow up the Battle Shell, I made part of the ceiling collapse on him, but he still wasn't dead. I pinned him down so he couldn't move, and then he got crushed when more of the roof fell. He couldn't survive that. He's dead. He ain't gonna hurt you no more, Don."

Don's expression didn't change, but he took a shuddering breath that rattled through his entire body. Leo put a hand on his brother's shoulder, feeling his chest tighten at the anguish that briefly flashed across Don's face — though Leo wasn't sure if he was remembering what he had suffered, or whether he was upset that Raph knew that he had been violated. But whatever it was, his face smoothed out after a minute, and he raised a hand to touch Raphael's arm.

"Thanks, Raph," he said quietly. "That's a load off my mind."


	25. Falling Apart

April couldn't remember when she had felt as horrible as she felt now. She felt like a rag that had been twisted and wrung until it hung limp and stretched — every one of her nerves felt like an unraveling piece of yarn, and her head ached as if someone had cracked her across the temples with a rock. She sank back into the armchair, pulling the blanket closer around her body, and drew her knees up against her chest.

Casey appeared beside her, gripping a mug tightly, as if afraid he would drop it. "Hey, April," he said a little awkwardly. "Splinter made this tea. It smells like somebody boiled ink, but it's probably real good for ya."

April smiled slightly, and accepted the mug. "Thanks, Casey," she said, grateful for the gesture from both her ex-boyfriend and from the mutant rat. "I really appreciate you coming to the rescue."

He smiled bashfully and scratched the back of his neck.

She drank the tea gingerly — Casey wasn't wrong about how it smelled, and it was painfully bitter — while her eyes moved to the Turtles. They were gathered in a tight little ring around the couch, with Don's three brothers talking quietly around him. Raph was gesturing angrily at nothing in particular, probably demanding that they fight someone, while Leo had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring sternly at his angry brother. Mikey was busy fluffing the cushion behind Don's head and chattering about something.

She couldn't see Don's face — he was facing away from her — and it was a relief. Every time she saw his face, the memories came flooding back — of his face as Racer had raped him, of his exhausted, empty expression as he had been dragged in front of Sarkis….

… of his eyes as he had gasped and quivered against her.

She flinched and pressed her face against her folded arm, the tea in her other hand almost forgotten. Don's heartbroken eyes filled her mind as she remembered how he had looked after she had mated with him. After she had hurt him. She would never forget how he had looked at her.

"April?" Casey said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," April said, her voice muffled by her arm.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Casey said, his brows knitting. "The Dragons — they didn't hurt you none, did they? I didn't get a good look at you before we left… I can get the first aid kit."

"No, Casey," April said, looking up quickly. "Don — he made sure none of them — hurt me."

It was mostly true — Don had saved her from being raped, and the Dragons hadn't bothered to hit her. Still, she slid her arms under the blanket, hiding the yellowish-green bruises that their rough hands had left on her pale skin when they had physically restrained her. There wasn't any point in upsetting Casey with them; he and Raph had already beaten almost every Purple Dragon in that particular building.

Relief crossed his face, and thankfully he didn't ask how Don had done that when he was practically paralyzed. April quickly swallowed another mouthful of bitter tea to keep from having to answer any more questions. Even though Leo had clearly figured out what had been done to Don, she was not going to tell anyone else what had happened until he wanted her to.

She bowed her head and stared down at the black tea, swishing it around in the cup. Once again, she suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of what she had done to Don out of fear — and even more ashamed as she felt a warm, sensual throb in her lower abdomen at the memory of Don inside her. Disgust with herself swelled in her chest. No matter how unwilling she had been to do it, even though she had been threatened into it, her body remembered nothing but the pleasure she had felt.

She felt dirty, and not just from the dust and sweat that still clung to her skin. She huddled back in the chair and lost herself in her thoughts of the last few days. Everything had started off so normally — a movie night, a meeting with Don — and it had all twisted into a nightmare that had left her nerves fractured and fragile as broken glass.

With trembling hands, she set down the mug of tea. She was aware that she needed sleep — she had dozed off before, but not for very long, and her body and mind had been subjected to massive strain during their captivity. Now it was all catching up to her — all the fatigue, the emotional stress, everything she hadn't allowed herself to feel during her captivity.

"Are you okay, April?" Leo's voice broke through her thoughts.

She looked up sharply, momentarily confused. Casey was gone — he was in the kitchen, filling up the coffeemaker — and Leo was sitting directly in front of her, his eyes full of concern.

"Sorry, Leo," she said softly. "I was just… thinking."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. This must have been pretty traumatic."

She shook her head. "You should be focusing on Don. He's the one who — who —"

"I know," he said quietly. "Raph does too. Master Splinter figured it out too. I'll… tell Mikey later, when Don is asleep."

April had already known that Leo had figured out what had happened to Don — she had seen him examine his brother in the Battle Shell, after all. But she wasn't sure how Raph had found out. It didn't sound, however, like either of them had learned of what had happened between her and Don. Yet. Her fingers tightened around the mug. Sooner or later, Leo would have to know… but she wasn't sure if she should tell him, or leave that up to Don… assuming he even wanted to talk about it, which he probably didn't.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I wasn't able to stop them. I tried, but…"

"It's not your fault," Leo said.

April closed her eyes. She wasn't so sure.

Leo hesitated for a moment, before saying softly, "April, I — I know what they did to Don — but did they — did they do anything to you?"

April shook her head, a lock of red hair falling loose against her cheek. "No," she said quietly. "They — they tried to. But Don distracted them, and they — Racer raped him instead." She felt a lump rising in her throat, squeezing tears up into her eyes. "He wouldn't let them hurt me — no matter what — and they just wouldn't stop hurting him — and I — then I…"

"It's not your fault," Leo repeated, placing his hands on her shoulders.

April's head ducked down as she struggled to swallow the tears that were rising to blur her vision. She wished she could believe that Leo was saying, but guilt was welling up inside her as she thought of all Don had suffered — and how he had endured it all to keep her safe. Now he was back with his family, safe again, but she knew he would likely never be the same after what he had gone through.

And she also knew that he probably didn't want to see her.

"I should go," she said thickly, rising to her feet. "I — I should probably notify the police that I'm alive and safe. Then I'll call someone to fix my windows and door, assuming someone hasn't robbed me blind."

"April—" Leo began.

"It's fine," she said, trying to smile. "I — I need to get some rest anyway, and take a shower. I'll call you guys later."

His hand tightened on her shoulder. "You shouldn't go, April," he said quietly.

"I have to," she said softly.

April let the blanket slip from her shoulders, and began to walk from the lair, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. She was still barefoot and dressed only a ragged T-shirt and shorts, but perhaps Mikey would be able to drop her off at her store, or she could try to flag down a taxi to take her home… either way, she didn't feel like she belonged in this place any longer…

"April."

The soft, steady voice pierced the quiet of the lair more effectively than a shout would have. Don's voice. She had thought that he had fallen asleep, or at least was so wrapped up in his brothers that he wouldn't pay attention to what was happening with her. But he had been listening to everything she said.

She turned slowly around, seeing Don's head raised from the pillow. His dark eyes were looking back at her.

"I can't—" she said faintly.

"April… please," Don whispered. His arm reached out toward her, hand open, beseeching her to come back.

Those two words tore at her heart, leaving her breathless. The last time he had spoken them, she had been kissing and caressing him in that miserable cell, both of them desperate and afraid. She hadn't been able to do what he wanted then, but she couldn't deny him now.

She could feel tears trickling from her eyes as she slowly came toward him, almost unwillingly, and clasped her hand in his. He was watching her with those wide dark eyes, and the guilt and pain swelled in her again at how he was looking at her — that undercurrent of pain and sadness, at war with something softer and brighter.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry…"

He squeezed her hand gently, pulling her down to sit beside him on the couch. The world became a hazy blur as the tears finally overwhelmed her, and she crumpled forward against Don's welcoming shoulder, clutching at him like a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver. She felt his fingers at her eyes, softly wiping away the tears, and other three-fingered hands touched her shoulder and back as his brothers closed around them.


	26. Midnight Conversations

The rest of the night was a sleepless one. At least, it was a sleepless one for Raphael.

Every time his fist hit the punching bag, his shoulder throbbed. He wasn't even punching with his injured arm — but the strikes kept sending jolts through his skeleton, jarring his shoulder every time.

He grimaced and pressed his unaffected hand to his throbbing shoulder. Even though after going without sleep the previous night, he knew he should be exhausted. But the anger inside him was keeping him awake — it practically crawled under his skin, itching at him to go out and beat the stuffing out of someone. Even though he didn't have anyone to beat right now.

He punched the bag again, and felt another throb in his shoulder. That was the frustrating part — he had already gotten revenge for Don, but he still wanted more. Most of the Dragons who had hurt his brother were probably either dead or hospitalized, but he still wanted to punish them. Especially that rapist — Racer, Leo had said — who had died way too quickly and painlessly. He threw one last punch at the bag, and winced at the jolt.

Then he glanced across the lair at Don. Splinter had decided that Don should not be left alone that night, that someone should stay with him at all times. The Turtle in question had lapsed into a deep, unmoving sleep on the couch, cocooned in a blanket and supported by a small nest of pillows Mikey had provided. Just looking at him, nobody would guess that anything had happened to him.

On the other hand, April had wept away the rest of her strength against Don, and was half-asleep when Leo had carried her away to his own room. Raph had gallantly offered his hammock as her temporary resting place, declaring that "I ain't gettin' any sleep," but Leo was uneasy with the idea of her sleeping in something that might suddenly tip over and throw her to the floor. So he carried her up to his room, placed her in his own bed, and had watched her tear-stained face growing peaceful at last as she fell asleep.

Mikey had gone up to his room just as an exhausted Leo had come back down, his eyes heavy and a stifled yawn on his lips. "I'll take the first watch," he had announced.

"No, you won't. You're all worn out from fightin' for two days without sleep," Raph had said.

"You've been awake just as long."

"Difference is, I'm too angry to sleep."

Splinter had intervened before Leo could come up with a response, commanding the blue-masked Turtle to sleep at least until morning, when they would see if Donatello had awakened. So Leonardo went up to Raphael's room and sprawled in his hammock, while Splinter reluctantly went back into his own private room.

That left Raphael effectively alone in the lair, the only one left awake to watch over Don. As he sat down in the nearby armchair, he felt a rush of gratitude that Splinter had taken his side.

He felt like he had failed. During fights, it was his self-appointed job to watch Don's back, to make sure nobody could hurt his brother. Don wasn't as fierce a fighter as the rest of them — maybe it was the trade-off for being so ridiculously smart — and sometimes he got cornered or knocked down during a battle. When that happened, Raph was always there to deflect a blow, attack a foe, to place himself between danger and his genius brother.

This time, he hadn't been able to do that. Don had been taken by the Purple Dragons, and hurt in ways that might never fully heal. Raph hadn't been there to save him. Now he felt a burning, gnawing feeling of failure in his core — the sense that he had let Don down when he really needed him.

It was then that he heard a rustle and a squeak, and looked up. Don was sitting up on the fold-out couch, looking blearily around himself in mild confusion.

"Don!" Raph said, scrambling to his feet.

Don looked up at him as the red-masked Turtle came over, a strange, distant look in his eyes, and began to move his legs to the edge of the couch. Then a spasm of pain crossed his face, and he pressed a hand to his lower plastron — and Raph's heart leapt into his throat.

"What's wrong, Don?" he said, putting his hand on his brother's scraped-up, bruised arm.

"N—nothing," Don said faintly. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? Are you crazy? You're hurt, Don!" Raph said fiercely. He had to force himself not to grip Don's arm tighter — the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his brother further.

"It's nothing serious," Don said, wincing. "I—I'll get over it."

But he moved more gingerly as he let his legs hang over the edge of the couch, and seemed to be testing them against the floor. His movements were clumsy and slow, but at least he was moving — he had been limp as an old rag when they had escaped the warehouse, and he had barely moved as they drove him home.

The worst part, Raph thought, was that Don was the one of them with the most medical knowledge. He was the one who knew their mutated bodies best, whipped up chemical cures, and was able to handle their cuts and injuries with steady hands and mild sarcasm. It wasn't his preferred field of science, but it was still something he knew more about than any of the rest of them.

The problem was, that meant the rest of them were less likely to know what to do when Don was the one who was hurt. Raph didn't know how the rape might have hurt his intelligent brother physically — and even if he did know, he wouldn't know what to do about it. He felt frustration spiking inside him, mingled with worry that Don was going to start bleeding or something like that.

Don braced himself against the back of the couch, slowly drawing himself up to his feet. Then he slumped back down, and rubbed clumsily at his calves. "I still can't stand up," he said faintly.

"You had a lotta that drug in you," Raph said. "Just take it slow."

Don seemed to huddle forward, cradling his arms against his plastron. "I—I'll try," he said. A thought seemed to strike him, and he looked up at Raph with a faint question in his strange, distant eyes. "Where's April?"

"She's sleepin' in Leo's room. She was pretty worn out after she cried."

"Is — is she okay?"

"Not really. Neither of you are okay," Raph said. "You should lie down and get some more sleep. It's still the middle of the night, and you've —" His voice caught a little on the words he wanted to say. "You've been through a lot."

Don closed his eyes, listlessly allowing Raphael to place his hands on his shoulders. But when Raph's hands slid down to grip his brother's biceps, pushing him back to the couch, something seemed to snap inside Don. Raph felt Don stiffen as his eyes snapped open, wide and staring, suddenly awash in stark terror. A gasping breath rushed out of him, harsh and rasping.

"Don!" Raph let go of of his brother as if he were red hot.

Don drew back from him, pressing himself against the back of the couch. It was only then that Raph noticed the dark, mottled bruises on his brother's upper arms. Bruises from fingers gripping him tightly. His stomach turned as he realized what had set Don off — he had touched him where they had touched him — when they — when Racer had —

"I'm — I'm sorry, Don," he said desperately. "I didn't realize —"

"It's okay," Don said breathlessly, his body still tense.

But it wasn't okay. Just the thought that he had reminded his brother of his rape made Raph feel filthy — nauseous at what he had done, innocent as it had been. His hands balled into fists, only for a bolt of pain to suddenly lance through his shoulder. He winced, and pressed his good hand to it.

"You're hurt," Don said, his voice a little less distant.

"It's nothin'. Just a strain."

"Let me see."

Raph reluctantly let Don draw him down to the couch, and probe at his throbbing shoulder with cool fingers. "You should have this in a sling," Don said.

"I'm doin' fine," Raph protested.

Don shook his head.

"Look, I'll — I'll put on a sling if you lie down and get some more sleep, okay?"

Don seemed to consider that proposition, and then slid down to his nest of pillows and pulled the blanket over himself. He lay there watching Raph expectantly, his arms crossed almost protectively over his plastron, and his knees drawn up.

Raph waited until his eyes closed, and then set out for Don's work area, and the medical paraphernalia he knew were stashed there. He was so busy seeking a sling that he didn't notice Don's eyes drifting open again, and the few small tears that trickled down to soak into his pillow.


	27. Morning Conversations

Something was wrong.

Mikey couldn't put his finger on it, but something had been… off about the night they had gotten Don back. He lay awake in bed the next morning, turning over his brothers' reactions in his mind, trying to figure out what had been so strange about it.

Don had been exhausted and partly paralyzed, and he had been unusually quiet as his brothers clustered around him. Mikey had tried to make him as comfortable as possible, but he got the impression that Don was in pain, though Leo hadn't mentioned any injuries. Mikey had asked him if he needed some warm washcloths for cuts or bruises, and Don had just said, "Thanks, Mikey, but no…"

Raph had been angry, which wasn't unusual. This time, Mikey could completely understand it — after all, the Purple Dragons had kidnapped their brother and spent almost two days hurting him. What wasn't to get angry about? What puzzled him about Raph's anger was how… desperate it seemed. Like he was almost frantic over what had happened to Don, even though usually kicking enemy butt was enough to settle him down.

Even Leo was acting funny. He seemed…. cautious, moving carefully and slowly around Don, speaking quietly to him as he cleaned the grime from their half-paralyzed brother's body. It wasn't how Leo normally acted around his brothers, even when they were hurt.

There had been something hovering in the air over them the night before, Mikey concluded. Something unspoken, unseen, unheard, but definitely there. And he was going to find out what it was, and what the others weren't telling him…

"Mikey," a voice said from below him. "Can we talk?"

Mikey rolled to the edge of his loft bed. Leo was standing under it, his hands on his hips. "Sure, just give me a minute."

He leaped down lightly to his brother's side, a joke already percolating on his tongue, but he stopped when he saw Leo's expression. He looked sterner than usual, as if he were about to deliver a lecture.

"What's the matter?" Mikey said, alarmed. "Is it Don? Did something happen to Don?"

"Don's still sleeping," Leo said quietly. "But I had to talk to you about something before he wakes up."

"If it's about his secret stash of candy, I already ate that."

"I'm not joking, Mikey," Leo said, irritation creeping into his voice. "This is something… very serious."

Mikey's face sobered. "Don said he wasn't hurt that bad," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Something happened to Don when he was with the Purple Dragons," Leo said quietly. "Raph, Master Splinter and I already figured it out, so I felt that you should be told, so you would know what not to do." He seemed to be struggling internally with something, but eventually he managed to choke out the words, "They raped him."

For a moment, silence settled over the room. Mikey blinked at Leo for a moment, trying to absorb the words his brother had said.

"They did what?" Mikey said.

He could tell from Leo's expression that he didn't want to say the words again. It had been hard enough for Leo to say them the first time, and now he was standing awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while the other clenched into a fist. His eyes were staring at the pattern of stones on the floor, not meeting Mikey's.

"Are — are you sure?" Mikey said with a hint of desperation. "I mean, if Don didn't say they did—"

"There was blood between his legs, Mikey," Leo said quietly. "He bled from his cloaca. April — she told me that it happened when he tried to protect her from the Purple Dragons."

Mikey felt his heart speeding up as he thought back to when he had rescued Don. He hadn't seen anything — but then again, he had been in a rush to get his brother out of there before anything could go wrong. He only remembered heaving Don onto his back and carrying him to the Battle Shell, as quickly and gently as he could. He would have noticed if Don was bleeding, wouldn't he?

Wouldn't he? Or… had he not noticed because he wasn't looking?

"So when Raph said the guy who — who hurt Don was dead —" Mikey said slowly. "I thought — I thought he meant beating him up or somethin'."

"No, Mikey," Leo said, his brow furrowing.

Mikey clenched his fists. "But — we gotta do something! I mean — isn't there some way we can fix this?"

Uncertainty crossed Leo's face, and that was more alarming to Mikey than anything else. He sank onto a cardboard box full of comic books, as the full weight of what Leo had said sank into his mind. This just — it wasn't possible that it had happened to one of them.

He still vaguely remembered what Master Splinter had told them a few years ago, when he caught Mikey staring at a lingerie ad in a magazine. He had explained to his sons that sexual contact should be a thing of love and giving, and never ever should happen if one of the people involved didn't want it. Mikey remembered that part mainly because it had made so little sense to him — why would anybody do that if the other person wasn't willing? Not only did his father impress on him that it was profoundly wrong, but he couldn't imagine it being enjoyable if the other person didn't want him.

And now… Leo was saying it had happened to Don. That Don had been raped while the Purple Dragons had him paralyzed and helpless. Mikey flinched as his mind tried to imagine what Don must be feeling right now — how much the Dragons must have hurt him. And he still didn't know what he could do to make it better.

"Why?" he said at last.

"Why what?"

"Why would someone do that to Don?" Mikey said mournfully.

"I — don't know either, Mikey," Leo said softly, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't understand it either. But we have to all be here for Don right now — and we have to be very careful with him. He's been badly hurt, and we don't know how it's going to affect him psychologically."

"What can I do?" Mikey asked.

Leo sighed, his shoulders slumping. Mikey searched his brother's face for some sign that Leo had an answer to give him. But there seemed to be none.

 

Hot water blasted from above April, streaming over her skin and hair. She gasped at the heat, but began scrubbing furiously with a bar of soap, creating suds on her skin as fast as they could be washed down the drain. The Turtles' bathroom lacked privacy — it didn't even have a door — but it definitely didn't lack for water pressure.

"April!" a familiar gravelly voice called. "I'm leavin' some clothes out here. They ain't gonna fit, but they're clean."

"Thanks, Raph," she called back, her hands automatically coming up to cover her breasts.

She went back to washing off the caked layers of filth that had accumulated on her during her captivity. Dust, particles of concrete, plenty of sweat, and Don's earthy, musky scent still clung to her. It was amazing that none of his brothers had noticed that April smelled like their brother, but perhaps they thought it was just from supporting him… and not from coupling with him. She wondered how long it would be before Don told his brothers what had happened, and if any of them would blame her for what she had done.

The thoughts clung to her mind as she toweled herself off, and examined the clothes Raph had left her. The only clothes the Turtles owned were the disguises they used when they were out in public, and all four of them were much broader physically than she was, even without their shells. Fortunately Raph had chosen a pair of pants with a stretchy waist, which clung to her hips just enough to not simply fall down.

As she made her way out into the lair, she heard voices coming from Mikey's bedroom — Mikey's voice, sounding upset, and Leo's lower, steadier voice. So Leo was telling him what had happened.

Don was sitting up against the pillows, the blanket folded up at his side. He still looked fragile — weary — as if a gentle push could throw him off-balance. But he looked up at April as she came toward him, and gestured for her to come closer.

"Are you able to move?" April said quietly.

"Mostly. Raph doesn't want me to get up until we're sure the paralytic has worn off," Don said, smiling wanly.

As feeble as it was, the smile made her heart clench. The fragility in his eyes reminded her that for all his outward maturity — for all his genius — and despite being a full-fledged ninja, he was still only seventeen years old. He wasn't much more than a child.

"I have to go," she said quietly.

His smile died, and she saw fear flash through his eyes. "Go where?" he asked.

"The police. I have to tell them that I escaped the Purple Dragons, and that I'm still alive." April sat down beside him, trying to look as reassuring as she could. "And then I have to start putting my store and apartment back together."

"Don't go alone," he said quietly, clasping his hand tightly around hers. "Have Raph take you there. Some of the Purple Dragons who kidnapped us might still be out there, and they might be looking for you."

April wanted to say that he was worrying too much about her, that the Dragons probably wouldn't be watching for someone whom they had only kidnapped because she had been near him. But Don was leaning closer to her, his dark, deep eyes fixed on hers, his hand clenching around hers. He looked almost desperate for her not to go alone.

"Don't worry about me, Don. I'll ask him to take me there," she said quietly.

Much to her relief, that seemed to reassure Don. He settled back against the pillows, wincing as he moved. April didn't want to think about what was causing him pain, didn't want to think about what had been done to him — what she had done to him. Even if he forgave her for forcing herself on him, she wasn't sure she could forgive herself.

On impulse, she leaned closer and pressed her lips against his cheek, winding one arm around his broad shoulders. "I'll be okay," she whispered, her breath brushing his face.

"Don't stay away," he said softly. "Come back soon."

"If you want me to," April said, trying to smile.

His hand loosened and released hers as she rose from the couch, and April found herself wishing that he hadn't — at least, not yet. As she walked to the garage — she could hear Raph rattling around in there already — she felt Don's eyes following her.


	28. One Week Later

Don woke with a gasping, silent scream in his throat, his fingers digging into his blanket. Sweat drenched his skin, soaking into the sheets under him. Every muscle in his body was rigid, taut as a bowstring about to snap.

For a moment the dream still had him in its grip — he could still feel fists smashing into his side, hot breath on his neck, a scraping, tearing pain inside him. He could still hear April sobbing and screaming his name. It was only when the sensations began to dissipate that his gasps began to slow into normal breaths, and his body slowly began to release its tension.

He was in his room — a dark, womblike environment full of half-built gadgets, an aquarium, bookshelves and a worktable with a comfortable chair, as well as the loft bed where he slept. It was a place uniquely his, tailored according to his needs. No enemy had ever come into this room. Even his brothers didn't typically enter his space, for fear of wrecking some machine he was working on. He should feel safe in his bedroom — but instead, his mind and body rang out with his nightmares.

It had been like this for the last week, ever since he had been rescued. Every night he was wracked with nightmares — and they weren't all things that had happened. The other night he had dreamed of Racer raping April instead of him, and woke with her screams still echoing in his ears. It had taken him several panicked minutes to remember that that hadn't happened.

April. In the real world, he hadn't seen April since the morning after their rescue, just before she left for the police station with Raph. The sight of her had torn at his heart — she had looked so ravaged and fragile.

Don slowly sat up and rested his face in his shaking hands. He felt fragile himself — somehow felt both numb and painfully raw. It was as if Racer had torn his body open and left him to bleed little by little, but at the same time he felt as though his emotions had been muted, muffled, dulled — all except the grinding fear, the depression that wrapped around him like a cloak. Choking him. Smothering him. Drowning him.

He drew a shuddering breath and hugged his arms around himself, fighting the lingering sensations and fear of his dream. He should be getting better from what had happened — but he wasn't.

Slowly, Don climbed down the ladder that led to his loft bed. Usually he left lights on so that he could navigate his room, or simply leap down and start drawing schematics or tinkering with devices if inspiration struck. But for the last week, he hadn't bothered. He had rarely stirred from his bed, and not quickly enough to need the lights.

He slid into his chair and stared down at the schematics for the Turtle Tunneler, which he had been making some adjustments to. Working on his inventions had always been a pleasure for him rather than a chore — he loved the feeling of making something new for himself and his brothers, and he loved the feeling of tinkering and improving until his creations were as close to perfect as possible. There was nothing he could quite compare to the feeling.

But for the last week, he couldn't quite manage to focus on his work. Every time he tried, he found that his attention slipped, and the feeling of enjoyment had turned gray and lifeless.

At least his physical injuries had healed, he reflected. The paralytic had finally been flushed out of his system the day after his rescue, though movements had been painful. The bruises the Purple Dragons had left all over his body were almost gone now. And according to Leo, who had been helping him with his own medical care, the tears to his cloaca were healing. That was some small comfort.

"Don."

A soft voice from outside his room. Leo.

"Are you okay? I was passing and I heard you…"

It was nice of Leo to pretend, but Don knew that his brothers had been checking on him regularly. Despite the silence they maintained whenever they came by, he had been trained to hear the quietest of footsteps. They didn't know what to say or do, so they tried to make sure he was all right as well they could — and sometimes they did try to reach out to him.

Leo appeared in the doorway. "Don, we're going to do some training in a little while. Would you like to join us?"

Don took a shaky breath. He didn't feel like training, but Leo sounded a little desperate. "I'm coming," he said quietly.

He hadn't trained in the last week. At first, Splinter said that he should sit out their exercises until his injuries healed. But they hadn't tried to get him to join in even when he felt well enough to do so, as if they were afraid he was going to break apart if they put any pressure on him.

Of course, they might have a reason to be apprehensive. They still didn't know everything that had happened to him. Leo and Raph had found out separately, and Don was fairly sure that Master Splinter had figured it out himself. As for Mikey… well, Don wasn't sure if Mikey had figured it out or been told what had happened, but he was fairly sure he knew.

But he hadn't been able to speak to them about what happened. He couldn't. The thought of telling them what he had suffered — what Racer had done to him — curdled the words in his throat.

As he moved out into the lair, he heard familiar voices talking down below him. He could tell they were trying to be quiet, but he could still hear them clearly — Raph's gravelly voice tended to carry, and Casey wasn't a man of naturally muted voice.

"—think I should go check on her?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. She's visited a couple times, but Don was asleep when she did. And she was in pretty rough shape when we saw her," Raph said. "Leo checked her store every day. It's all closed down."

"I'll do that," Casey said determinedly.

"Anyway, keep us informed, willya?"

"Will do. Hun hasn't shown up yet, so I guess he's probably in with the Foot Clan right now. But he's probably heard about the warehouse fallin' in and all those guys gettin' killed or hospitalized, and they'll all be in jail when they recover. He's gonna be searching for who's workin' on their own in the Purple Dragons without his approval, and things are gonna get real messy in that gang when he finds 'em." There was a note of glee in Casey's voice at the idea of internal conflict in the Dragons.

Don closed his eyes tightly as he landed on the first level of the lair. He didn't want to hear about the Purple Dragons — it just brought to mind Racer's gleaming smile, and the cold cruel eyes of the countless men around him as they had grabbed him — grabbed April —

"Don, are you okay?" Leo said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Don swallowed hard. "I'm fine," he said, wrapping his arms around his torso, as if he were cold.

He knew that it hadn't convinced Leo — his brother drew closer and fixed his keen eyes on Don's face — but he felt too tired and hollow to say anything more. He was already regretting leaving his room, and he hadn't even really done anything yet.

"… better keep those Purple Dragons locked up, because if they don't, I'll make 'em regret they were ever born," Raph was saying ominously. Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw the flash of steel as Raph drew his sai, as if the Purple Dragons were standing in the lair and he was preparing to take them out then and there.

A sudden stab of fear pierced through Don. He didn't want Raph to go after the Purple Dragons — especially by himself. His brothers had already been put in enough danger because of his abduction, spending almost two days fighting Dragons and nearly being crushed by a falling building. The last thing he wanted was for Raph to risk being captured as well, especially if Hun was going to be involved.

He felt a hand rest on his shell and another move down to his forearm, gently pushing him forward and away from Raph and Casey. "Come on, Don," Leo said quietly.

Mikey chose that moment to come out of the kitchen, holding a plate of pancakes slathered in syrup. His face was wreathed in smiles, but Don thought that he looked a little strained.

"Hey, bro! I was just cooking these. Wanna have some?" he said, holding out the plate. "Your personal chef made them for your culinary pleasure."

Don looked at the plate and his stomach rebelled, cramping and twisting up. He felt vaguely nauseous at the idea of eating anything, but at the same time he felt a stab of guilt at the thought of disappointing his brother. Mikey's eyes were glued to his face as he tried to think of something to say.

"Don, you haven't eaten in almost three days," Leo said softly. "And when you did, it was just a handful of crackers and peanut butter."

Don sighed. "I — I just feel a little sick."

"At least give it a try, Don," Mikey said.

Don's eyes drifted down to the floor. "I'll — try," he said finally.

Just then, Raph and Casey came out into the open, both of their faces grim. Raph's eyes widened as he saw Don sitting there; evidently he had been too absorbed in their conversation to notice his genius brother emerging from his room. Casey looked surprised as well, and Don found himself wondering if their human friend had come to visit on other days, when he had been locked away in his bedroom.

"Seeya, Raph," Casey said awkwardly, moving to the other end of the lair. "Hope you feel better real soon, Don."

"Seeya, Casey," Raph responded.

Don waited for Raph to turn around and speak to him, but Raph simply lowered his head and stared down at the floor. Tension radiated from him — it was in the set of his mouth, the stiffness of his shoulders, the clenching of his fists, the faint cording of the muscles in his neck. As Don watched, he began to shake slightly, his hands still gripping the hilts of his sai. He looked as though he was struggling not to explode from the rage building inside him, as if violent action was the only thing that could abate his feelings. And if he charged out there on his own, it could only make things worse.

With a roar, Raph pulled one of his sai and sent it flying across the lair. Don flinched as the sai pierced a training dummy through the head, knocking it back against the wall. The head fell to the floor with a clatter, the sai falling loose.

"Do you feel better now?" Leo said, putting his hands on his hips. "It's time for training, Raph."

Raph wheeled around, his eyes flashing. For a moment, Don thought he was going to tell Leo where he could put his training, but then his brother's gaze moved down towards Don. Slowly, Raph's tension drained away, and he came closer.

"How you doin', Don?" he said.

Don smiled feebly at him, but his heart sank at the strange, strained look in Raph's eyes. His brothers were all walking on eggshells around him, afraid that if they did or said something wrong, it would break him. Mikey wasn't joking, which was abnormal for him. Leo was being protective and careful with him. Even Raphael was trying to suppress his fury.

It made him feel even more removed and distant from them — the way he had felt ever since they had saved him from Racer and the Purple Dragons. It was as if the rape had torn him away from his loving brothers, leaving a bleeding chasm between them. He felt a desperate desire to feel close to them again, to have them speak and act their minds as they normally did.

He just didn't know how.


	29. Flashbacks

The hollow, aching feeling became more intense as they began preparing to do their daily training. Leo was already moving through sword katas, Mikey was leaning against a wall with a Silver Sentry comic, and Raph was unleashing some of his pent-up energy on the punching bag. After watching them for a few minutes, Don slowly began to move through some basic stretching exercises for muscles that hadn't trained in almost a week and a half. He had to be careful of his half-healed injuries, though — certain movements made him grimace.

The shoji doorway of Master Splinter's room opened, and the mutant rat moved out among his sons. He stopped near Don, his dark eyes lingering the longest on the son who hadn't been there for the past week. Don knew well when his father was worried about someone — he had seen the same concern for Raph and his anger, or Leo and his struggles when the city had been at war.

Leo came out of the next room with a long, thin object clutched in his hand. "Here. You left — I found this in April's apartment," he said a little awkwardly. "I tried to give it back to you the other day, but you were asleep."

Don took the bo staff, and wrapped his fingers tightly around it. It made him feel a little better to know that his bo had been recovered — though Master Splinter had trained all four of his sons in every weapon he could get his hands on, each one had also specifically trained with his own preferred weapon. Don's was one that had gotten him out of many tight spots — a strong, sleek weapon that he appreciated for its simplicity.

"Thanks, Leo," Don said.

Leo nodded, but his keen eyes were fixed on Don's face, and a frown crinkled the skin of his brow. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

"I'm — not any worse," Don said hesitantly.

"You look shaky," Leo said. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Don's fingers clenched around his bo. "I can do this," he said quietly, more to himself than to Leo.

He felt Leo's hand settle on his shell. "Don't push yourself too far. If you need to slow down or step aside, just tell us," he said softly.

"I will," Don promised.

But he felt apprehension blooming inside him as he began to move through the familiar exercises with his bo. The last time he had used this weapon was in the fight at April's apartment, where… where he had been captured. Kidnapped.

Don grimaced as he spun the bo in his hands, and then jabbed it into the ribs of an imaginary enemy. He knew that he wasn't the most adept fighter, compared to his brothers. Each of the others was gifted with qualities that made them formidable on the battlefield. Leo was a prodigy of swordsmanship, his dedication matched only by his skill. Raph was a powerhouse of fiery, unstoppable strength. And while Mikey rarely fought to his full potential, Don knew that he found it easier to fight effectively than any of the rest of them — it was the reason he could afford to joke and clown around during battles.

His hands shook as he moved into another form, his thoughts starting to affect his body. He knew that his special gifts were wholly of the mind — even as a young turtle, he had known that his kind of intelligence wouldn't translate to ninja fighting skills. But he had still been trained his whole life by Master Splinter, and he had thought… well, that even if he would never quite be as effective as his brothers, then he was at least fairly good.

But then he had been captured by the Purple Dragons. Not by a horde of Foot ninja, who were formidable enough in groups that even Leo had been overwhelmed by them once, or by Agent Bishop, his troops and technology. But by a street gang. A group of thugs who weren't even trained in any fighting techniques, and weren't — except for Hun — unusually strong…

He should have been able to beat them. He had failed… failed April, failed himself.

"Don," Leo said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Don gripped his bo tightly. "I — I should have been able to hold them off," he mumbled. "I should have been able to beat them long enough for you to get there…"

Leo shook his head. "Don, they gassed you. None of us could have done any more than you did."

Don wasn't sure if he believed that, but he focused on sweeping his weapon at an imaginary enemy's legs.

"Donatello," Splinter said suddenly. "Are you able to spar today?"

Don blinked, coming back to the present. "Y—yes, Sensei."

The mutant rat nodded briskly, but Don saw doubt in his eyes. "Begin sparring in pairs," Master Splinter said. "Only lightly today. Donatello, you will spar with Raphael. Leonardo, you will be sparring with Michelangelo."

Don forced his hands to be steady as he approached Raphael. He already knew that his brother was going to go easy on him, just to give him a sporting chance of actually winning their bout. He wished Raph wouldn't — while Don felt as fragile as a paper lantern, it irritated him that he seemed so weak in their eyes that his brother had to hold back. When Raph looked up at him, there was… uncertainty in his eyes. Apprehension.

Don took a deep breath and lunged towards Raph without warning, his bo swinging in a wide arc towards his brother's shoulder. Raph's arm twisted up to intercept the bo with his sai, throwing Don back a few steps as he thrust his arm forwards. It was a well-executed move, and Don waited for the next blow to come his way.

But he could feel Raph's hesitation. Normally Raph would have thrown far more strength behind such a blow, and would have followed it with a feigned strike in order to win — or at least continue — their little sparring match. Instead he drew back, his eyes uncertainly following Don as he regained his balance.

Don gripped his bo, but he could feel that his movements weren't as nimble and precise as they usually were. He felt… unbalanced, as if he were in danger of falling off a narrow beam every time he made a move.

But he threw himself back into the sparring, landing a few light blows on Raph's side and chest. Some confidence began to creep back into him as Raph drew back into a more defensive posture, watching Don's attacks like a wary panther. Maybe he just needed some practice to get back into shape.

Raph dodged another blow, and a familiar gleam came back into his eyes — the look he had when he was really getting involved in a fight, when a battle began to excite him. He sprang towards Don with his arms outstretched, sai glinting in his hands, and attempted to disarm Don by snagging his bo and sending it twirling from his hands. He missed, but only narrowly, and as he swept his hand across Don's torso, the hilt of his sai smashed into his brother's abdomen.

Don felt the heavy blow against his stomach — not hard enough to damage his plastron, but hard enough to hurt. He doubled over and clutched at the injured spot, waiting for the pain to pass so he could get back to sparring—

"Donnie!" Raph said, dropping his other sai.

"Don!" Leonardo shouted, abandoning his match with Mikey. He rushed over to his brother and wrapped his arms around Don from behind, trying to pull him back upright.

Hot breath against his neck — the weight of a body against his shell — pressing against the backs of his thighs —

And terror flooded through Don — stark, blinding terror that instantly washed away thought and rationality. He stiffened, every nerve in his body suddenly shrieking at him to struggle, to run, to tear himself away from the monster behind him. For that moment he could barely hear or see anything around him — he was aware only of the body behind him, and the unthinking fear that was choking him.

"Don? Don?" Leo said, his arms tightening around his brother.

"No — no — stop it —" Don gasped, his voice growing hoarse and desperate. His fingers dug into the hands gripping him, pulling them from his plastron until they released him—

Then he was on his knees, his fingers clutching his bo in a white-knuckled grasp. His breath was coming in hoarse, desperate gasps, and his head was spinning with the sudden rush of adrenaline. Then he felt hands on him — fingers grasping, clutching at him — and he cried out again, trying to push them away — trying to escape them before they could hold him down —

"Donatello!"

Master Splinter's voice cut through the panic that had enveloped his mind. He suddenly recognized the hands grasping him — they all had three fingers — and he saw Leo and Raph's concerned faces over him as they tried to calm him. Restrain him. He was shaking uncontrollably as he sank back to his hands and knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart still pounding wildly.

"Don!" Leo said desperately, grasping his brother's shoulders. "Don — I didn't mean to remind you of — I was just trying to help you — I'm sorry —"

Don shook his head furiously, his panic giving way to shame. "I have to go," he said thickly.

"What? No, you don't!" Leo said.

"Yes, I do," Don said, feeling Raph's strong grip tightening. "I need — I need to be alone…"

"Let him go, Raphael," Master Splinter called out.

Suddenly the hands let go of him. Don pulled loose from Raph and Leo and ran blindly across the lair, leaped up to the second level and plunged into the dark, hexagonal doorway that led to his bedroom. Like most rooms in the lair, it had no door to bar intruders, so he clearly heard his brothers' voices rise behind him, calling his name as they followed him up to his room.

He was trembling and breathing hard as he sank onto the futon couch that he kept shoved in a corner, and rested his face in his hands. If he had felt fragile before, he felt like he was tearing apart now.


	30. At April's Shop

Someone knocked loudly at the downstairs door.

April stiffened, and slowly looked in the direction of the sound. For a moment, she stood unmoving beside the counter, wondering if she should answer it. Her heart was beating wildly, and she could feel her hand closing tightly around the broom in her hand, as if reassuring herself that she had a weapon if someone tried to harm her.

Another knock sounded as she approached the side-door. She jumped slightly, and then crept closer, ready to race upstairs if it wasn't someone she knew. "Who is it?" she called.

"It's Casey," a familiar voice called.

Relief flooded through her, and she immediately opened the door. "Hi, Casey," she said with a weary smile.

"I see you gotcher door replaced," Casey said, stepping inside. He glanced at the front of the building. "New windows and front door, too."

"It's costing me a lot," April said with a sigh. "But the Purple Dragons really did a number on my place. The repairmen are supposed to fix my upstairs windows tomorrow."

It had taken a few days to sweep up all the broken glass and the furniture the Purple Dragons had smashed — when the police had let her back into her apartment, she had found her living space littered with shards of glass and chunks of splintered wood.

The antique store had gotten the worst treatment. Some of the Dragons had apparently decided to trash the place just for the joy of destroying things, and April had felt her heart sink when she had stepped past the shattered door and saw what was inside. The cash register had been emptied, of course, but the Dragons had left piles of broken china everywhere, broken the front window and door, crushed some pieces of furniture including a beautiful antique armoire, ripped apart books, and upended everything inside a box or drawer. One of those animals had even gouged holes in the walls with a knife.

"You must have really gotten on their bad side, miss," the police officer had said.

"Yeah," April had responded, wrapping her arms around herself. "At least it's all over now."

The cop had given her a funny look for that, but she had been enduring funny looks all morning, ever since Raph had dropped her off at the police station. She had told them a highly abridged version of the truth — that the Purple Dragons had kidnapped her and held her hostage in a warehouse, and that she had managed to escape just before it had collapsed. She had left out that Don had been there with her, and that she had only escaped because the Turtles and Casey had come to save them.

Of course, the police had asked plenty of questions, ranging from "How did you get out of the cell?" to wondering why she was wearing Raph's too-loose, too-short pants and shirt ("A friend picked me up and let me stay overnight"). But she was fairly certain she had been able to half-lie her way out of it, especially since the police had already checked out the burning rubble of the warehouse, with several wounded Purple Dragons attempting to escape.

"Well, we did a number on them," Casey said, pounding a fist into an open palm. "They won't mess with you again after what we did to 'em. The ones that are still alive, that is."

April smiled. She wasn't entirely confident that that was true — the Purple Dragons were far too large and aggressive to be taken out by one attack, or even several coordinated attacks. And she hadn't felt secure ever since she had returned home — there was always the creeping awareness that she was vulnerable, that someone could abduct her again, or even kill her, before the police could arrive.

"So… why are you here?" she asked. "Were you in the neighborhood?"

"I came by 'cause Raph's real concerned about you," Casey said, settling on a rather battered couch.

"About me?" April said blankly. She couldn't imagine why they would be focusing on her instead of on Don. He was the one who needed all their care and attention right now.

"He said you were lookin' kind of worn-out, and I see what he means," Casey said. "Plus, Leo said you hadn't opened up your shop all week. That ain't like you."

April's fingers clenched around the broom handle, and she suddenly became very interested in sweeping a few stray fragments of porcelain from the floor. Casey watched her patiently, waiting for her to speak again.

What Casey was saying was the truth. For the past week, April had barely stirred from her apartment — the only exception had been a few visits to the Turtles, whose lair felt safer than her apartment right now. Most of the time she remained at the shop, waiting for the moment when her stomach wouldn't churn at the sound of a knock at the door. Waiting for every broken window and battered piece of furniture to stop reminding her that thugs had broken into her home and dragged her out.

"I just… needed a little time to myself," she said quietly, resting her chin on the broom handle.

"Hey, I get it," Casey said, putting a hand on her arm. "Being kidnapped by the Purple Dragons like that — it messed you up. Anybody'd be the same way if it happened to them. You needed to retreat into yer shell and get better."

"Thanks, Casey," April sighed. She sank onto the couch beside him, still clutching the broom.

"You might wanna go round to their place again, though," he said, sounding too casual to have planned it out. "Right now they're all worried about Don, so they could probably use the moral support."

April wavered slightly. "How — how is Don doing?" she said quietly. She wasn't sure what to expect, but if they were all worried about his well-being, the news couldn't be good.

"He came out this morning, but he looked pretty rough. Leo was sort of pullin' him out. And Raph said that he wasn't eatin'."

April felt her heart twist at what she was hearing. The last two times she had been to the lair, Don had been hidden away in his bedroom, and his brothers had informed her that he had barely emerged since the day after his rescue. The news that he wasn't eating was even more alarming. But at least he was coming out of his room now… maybe he was improving.

She thought back to when she had last seen him — his wan smile, his dimmed eyes. He had seemed so quiet, giving little indication that of the pain he must have been suffering — quiet, except when he heard that she was leaving the lair. She felt a stab of guilt over her own tears and feelings of fragility — he had comforted her and cared for her, when he had been the one who was truly suffering.

"I'm headin' over there," Casey said, breaking through her thoughts. "Do you wanna come too?"

April took a shaky breath. "Yes. Just give me a minute."

She dug around in her pocket for her car keys, and gripped them so tightly that they cut into her fingers. "I'm going," she said determinedly.

Casey grinned at that reaction, as if he had been waiting for her to say those words. He sprang to his feet and rushed out the door, followed by the roar of a motorcycle engine coming to life.

As she climbed into her van, April gritted her teeth and thought of Don as she had last seen him while awake — when he had pulled her to him, held her and dried her tears. He deserved no less from her now, and she was going to make sure that he received it.


	31. Silent Home

April's mind was buzzing with worries as she drove to the lair. She was rather grateful that Casey had taken his motorcycle rather than riding in her van, because she doubted she would be very good company — she was too wrapped up in thinking about Don to make conversation. Too busy worrying that his trauma was dragging him down.

Before long, the motorcycle and van parked in the garage — a massive room with the Battle Shell, the Turtle Tunneler and Shell Cycle all sitting in it. Casey hopped off his ride as April opened her door, but she paused as she sensed something strange about the Turtles' home. It took a moment for her to realize what it was — it was quiet.

It was hardly ever quiet in the Turtles' lair. After all, four seventeen-year-old males lived there, which meant that it was usually rowdy and noisy — like a fraternity occupied exclusively by mutant turtles. The TVs blared, Donnie's inventions hummed and whirred, Raph grunted and roared his way through his workouts, weapons clashed as they practiced, and the sound of laughter and teasing rang out as they played. Even at night, there was the sound of Raph snoring and Mikey mumbling in his sleep.

But it was eerily quiet now, almost as if the Turtles were out of the lair. For a moment, April thought they might have left, giving Splinter the run of the place. But then she saw that the TVs, though muted, were all tuned to a cheesy sci-fi movie — meaning Mikey was still there.

He was sitting in front of them, a comic-book open in his lap, but not looking at it. Klunk was crawling around his feet, meowing and attempting to get his owner's attention, but Mikey's eyes were fixed on a point a thousand miles away.

And as April came closer, she saw that Leo was also present. He was sitting beside the river-water pool in the center of the lair, his legs crossed and his eyes closed. Lost in meditation. She glanced around again, checking for Raph, but he seemed to be absent.

"Leo? Mikey?" Casey called out.

Mikey almost jumped off the couch. "Casey!" he protested. "You almost made me jump outta my shell!" He leaped lightly over the back of the couch, leaving a disgruntled Klunk to meow loudly at him.

"Where's Raph?" Casey asked.

"Sulking upstairs," Mikey said. Then his face grew more serious. "He's — he's upset right now."

Raph being upset — and angry — about something wasn't a particularly rare occurrence, and normally April wouldn't have been too concerned about it. But something about Mikey's expression and tone told her that Raphael was upset about something important.

Leo had broken out of his meditation and was rising to meet them, a troubled look marring his face. April turned towards him, and said, "I came to see how Don was doing."

The two Turtles looked at each other, their faces growing grim. "Don — isn't doing so well," Leo said slowly.

April's eyes widened and her heart bounced into her throat. She had hoped that leaving his room meant he had improved — but something must have happened if they were reacting this way to her question.

"See, Leo managed to get him out of his room today, and I got him to eat something," Mikey said. "So I thought he was doing better, you know? He still seemed kinda funny, but he was doing normal stuff. He even did some training with us and Master Splinter. He was actually doing a pretty good job when — he just sort of freaked out and went back to his room."

"It was my fault," Leo said in a low voice. "I tried to help him get up, but I didn't realize he would react that way."

"What way?" April asked.

Leo lowered his head. "I accidentally reminded him of the — of what happened to him," he said quietly.

"Gettin' beat up?" Casey said, confused.

April looked at Leo, who silently shook his head. None of them had told Casey yet — and they wouldn't unless Donatello wanted them to. April felt guilty for letting Casey remain in the dark — after all, he was part of the Turtles' team too — but she knew she would feel even guiltier if she told him about something so personal without Don's permission. Especially since he was in so much pain right now…

"Something like that," Leo said, crossing his arms. "He started panicking and left. I — I tried to go in a little while ago to check on his injuries, to make sure nothing's become infected. but he said that he wanted to be left alone." His brow furrowed, and April had the feeling that that was the cause of Leo's impromptu meditation.

She glanced between Mikey and Leo's faces, seeing the same anxiety blooming in both of their eyes. Don was the mellowest of the four brothers, the least likely to cause trouble on his own — and so having him so wounded was going to mess with their heads.

"Can I talk to you privately, April?" Leo said quietly.

April followed him across the small bridge that spanned the river-water pool, glancing back to make sure Casey and Mikey weren't following them. Leo's face was grim as he turned towards her, and cast a quick glance up at the doorways above them.

"April, I — I was wondering if you could try to talk to Don," he said quietly. "He still hasn't said a word about what happened to him, even though we all know. It's like he's bottling it all up inside, and trying to act like nothing happened even though he's falling apart because of it. And he's so — withdrawn. We've tried to ease him back into normal activities like training, but even when he's trying hard to participate, he seems so… distant." His eyes drifted back to Don's doorway. "It's like he's gone to a place that we can't follow, and we don't know how to get him back. We've never been like this before — one of us cut off from the others."

He looked back at her, anguish swimming in his eyes. "I — I don't know what to do, April," he said. "I don't know how to help him. You were there — you know what happened better than anyone. Maybe he'll talk to you."

April nodded. "I'll do my best, Leo."

He smiled weakly. "I know you will, April."

April reached out and squeezed his shoulder companionably. She had never seen Leo so anguished about one of his brothers before, but then again, they had never experienced something like this before. The closest that April could remember was when Leo himself had been savagely beaten by the Foot Clan and had nearly died. In the weeks of his recovery, Leo had become withdrawn and miserable — and it was only with a little help from Raph that he had returned to normal.

April felt a flutter of apprehension as she made her way towards Don's bedroom. Don and his brothers were closer than any siblings she had ever met in her life — though they sometimes irritated one another, they had a bond that was unbreakable and unshakeable. Don was particularly close to Raph, in an odd way — he was the yin to Raph's yang, the calm and intellectual counterbalance to Raph's anger and passion. What was more, Don had once confidently told her that Raph always protected him in battle, watching his back as they fought.

They all belonged together — they compensated for each other's weaknesses, shored up one another's strengths. Taking any one of them out of the equation destabilized the other three — and perhaps they needed Don's serenity and level-headedness most of all.

As she stepped onto the second level, she could see that Raph was leaning against the wall outside Don's room, his arms tightly crossed across his chest. His head was bowed, but April could see misery etched on his features.

"Are you okay, Raph?" she asked.

He looked up slightly. "He ran away from us," he said hoarsely. "Like we was tryin' to hurt him."

April put a hand on his shoulder. "Raph — he didn't mean it like that," she said quietly.

"I know," Raph muttered. But his expression didn't change.

"He's just hurting at the moment. If you give him a little time, I'm sure he'll—"

Raph shook his head, and leaped off the walkway, down into the living space. Other voices began to murmur below — April heard Casey and Raph's most prominently.

She turned back towards Don's doorway and squared her shoulders. Except for the light falling from outside, the room was completely dark — she could see the bulky shapes of furniture looming against the stone walls, but nothing more about them. And though she knew Don was inside, she couldn't see any sign of movement. Maybe he was asleep.

"Don," she said quietly. "Can I come in?"

There was only silence for a moment, and then a quiet voice said, "Yes."


	32. In Don's Room

As April walked slowly into the darkness, she looked around for some sign of a lamp. She had seen the lighted interior of Don's room in passing, during the time when she had lost her home and was forced to live with the Turtles and Splinter. But since she had been staying in Mikey's room rather than Don's, she had only seen it in passing. The main thing she remembered about it was that it had looked like a small lab, and had a loft bed with bookcases underneath it.

And as she moved through the dark, she felt herself brushing against lengths of thick paper, small piles of machine parts, and the occasional chair. Eventually, her groping fingers found the bell-shaped shade of a desk lamp, and after fumbling for a moment she found the switch. Light flooded the table it was sitting on, and crept into every corner of the room — including the corner where Don was sitting on a small futon couch.

Physically, he didn't look any different from how he had a week before — he was still stocky and muscular, and his olive skin wasn't any paler than it had been. But somehow he looked more ragged, more exhausted, more fragile. He wasn't wearing his elbow and knee pads or his knotted belt, which made him look somehow more naked, more vulnerable. She almost felt the urge to look away, out of a sense of modesty — which was ridiculous, since he wasn't any more nude than he usually was.

His mask hid the area around his eyes, but April had the feeling that dark rings had formed under them. His hands were loosely resting on his thighs, and his eyes were dimmed as he slowly looked up at her. "April," he said faintly.

"Don!" April rushed over to him and pressed one of his hands between both of hers.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came here to find out how you were doing." She placed a hand on the side of his face, guiding him to look at her. "I was here twice before, but you were in here, asleep."

"I'm sorry…"

"You don't have anything to apologize for," April said warmly, squeezing his fingers. "But everyone's really worried about you right now. Leo — he said that you got upset, that he reminded you of Racer during training, and that drove you back in here."

Shadows seemed to shift in Don's eyes. "It's not Leo's fault. I know he didn't mean to…"

"I'm not looking for someone to assign blame to, Don. I'm saying that your brothers are really upset, because they know you're hurting right now, but they don't know what to do." Her fingers moved slowly over the smooth skin of his face, and she felt him turn slightly into the palm of her hand. "They want to help you."

Don's eyes drifted closed, and he let his head rest lightly against her hand. His fingers curled around hers, and she could feel him tugging lightly at her arm, drawing her hand closer to him. She let him do it — if he needed the closeness, the comfort of someone near him, she was going to give it to him. All he needed, and more. She gently stroked the side of his face, running her thumb along the edge of his face, brushing the soft skin near his eye.

"I'll be fine," he said faintly. "I just need some time alone."

"You're not fine," April said. "Don, please… I've never seen you like this before."

His head bowed slightly, and April felt his hand moving softly against hers, as if he were trying to wind her fingers around his thicker ones. She gently rubbed her thumb against the joint of his, and lightly curled her fingertips against his.

"Don," she whispered, leaning close to his face. "Please. Don't try to do this alone. We're all here for you. We all want to help you."

"I know…" he said, sounding as if he were in pain, his hand clenching around hers. "I know…"

His hand drew hers closer still, until her palm was pressed lightly against his plastron. She could feel the dull throb of his heart against her fingers, a steady, comforting sensation. For some reason, April was grateful that he did that — it was a welcome reminder that for all he had suffered, Don was still with her. He was alive. He had survived what had happened to him, and Racer and most of his followers had not. And she and his brothers would find a way to make him whole again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Sorry? For what?"

"I couldn't protect you. I wanted — I would have done anything to keep them away from you, but I couldn't. I failed."

April felt her heart twist at the quiet misery in his voice. "Don, you didn't fail," she said softly, gently stroking his face. "You protected me."

Don swallowed hard, slowly shaking his head. "I should have been able to stop them," he said. "If I had—"

"You protected me," April repeated, "and I'm never going to forget that." She clasped her hand tighter around his, feeling the warm flutter of his pulse beating in his wrist. She suddenly wanted to wrap him in her arms, tightly and soundly, and find a way to make him believe her — he had suffered more than enough without believing that he had failed her too. "And everything you went through — everything they did to you — none of it is your fault. It was all because of Racer."

"I keep dreaming about it," he said quietly, his eyes far away. "You and I are in the cell again, and — they're all there. And he's there. He's — hurting me — taunting me, telling me to scream or you'll be next. It doesn't end — it just keeps going on and on, until I feel like he's tearing me apart inside."

April's stomach churned. As if it weren't horrifying enough that Don had been raped and nearly killed by the Purple Dragons, he was still reliving the pain — the violation — the humiliation.

"And sometimes I dream about things that didn't even happen," he whispered, his eyes staring at something far away. "I — I dreamed about Racer raping you, April. And I couldn't stop him…"

"Stop," April whispered. "Stop…"

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, as tightly as she dared, ready to pull back if he reacted the way he had with Leo. But he remained still as she held him, drawing him into her arms until his plastron was resting against her chest and stomach, his chin nestled against her shoulder, his cheek brushing lightly against hers. She could hear his breath in her ear, feel the beating of his heart in his throat.

And as she cradled him in her arms, her hands gripping the edge of his shell, she felt his hands moving up to slip past her sides and rest against her back. He didn't seem to know where to put them, and eventually he let them fall to the small of her back, pulling her ever closer. She shivered suddenly at the unexpected intimacy of the touch, feeling a warm, electric sensation spreading up her spine.

"April," Don breathed. "I just… I wish…"

He didn't say what he wished, but there was a lonely ache, a yearning in his voice that tugged at her heart. April turned her head slightly until her lips were pressed against his cheek, a silent reminder that he wasn't alone — that there were people who loved him.

And then she felt him move slowly but decisively, his face turning against hers until his lips were on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews highly desired!


	33. The Kiss

For a moment, April didn’t dare to move — the gentle pressure of Don’s mouth against hers was sending warm, delicious shivers through her body, even though he hadn’t done more than touch her lips. And though his mouth was strange to her, wider and differently shaped from a human mouth, she felt as though her lips fitted it easily.

For one dark moment, she remembered the last time she had kissed him — back in the cell, as she had tried to arouse and comfort him at the same time. He had been clumsy as he had kissed her back — it was obvious he had never kissed anyone before — but he had actually kissed her back, as passionately as the paralysis had allowed. 

But this time she could feel him moving — his legs shifted against hers, and his hands pressed against her back, guiding her deeper into the kiss. He began kissing her almost shyly, his lips moving uncertainly against hers. Her hands clenched on the edge of his shell, pulling him closer to her body as she began to kiss him in return. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and twined with his tongue, and she felt him stiffen briefly at the unfamiliar intrusion.

She felt as though she was almost in a trance as she lost herself against him, every touch of his hands and lips sending heat flooding through her. One of her hands moved up to his face, gently stroking his too-smooth skin and trailing down to his throat. She felt him quiver slightly at the touch, and then his powerful arms tightened around her, drew her in closer, until it felt like the whole front of her body was on fire.

“Don,” she whispered as his lips left hers for a moment so both of them could breathe. “Donnie…”

He didn’t answer, just nuzzled softly against her, his eyes warm and bright. And then they were holding one another tightly again, her lips searching for his almost desperately. And as they sank into another slow, hesitant kiss, April could feel Don’s hands moving her down, lowering her gently to the futon below them, until she could feel the firm couch under her back and Don’s plastron pressed against her belly and chest. She gripped his shell and tried to pull him closer, deeper.

Then she felt his weight settling down on her hips, his knee gently nudging her legs apart. And with that, the trance seemed to break. Suddenly she was aware of what they were doing — what they were about to do. She felt shock ripple through her, fighting the warmth radiating from where Don was touching her. 

“Don,” she gasped. “Don!”

He didn’t seem to hear her, or perhaps he thought she was calling out for him for another reason. She could feel him kissing the side of her face, his eyes half-closed, seemingly happy to be lost in her arms. But she couldn’t let him. It wasn’t right… 

“Don, stop! We can’t do this!” she said desperately, pressing her palms against his chest.

He stopped moving, and she felt him shift his weight off of her, until he was lying on his side beside her. He looked at her with eyes as deep and clear as lake water, filled with confusion about why she had told him to stop. April sat up sharply, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes, doing her best not to tremble.

“We can’t — we can’t do this,” she rambled, clutching at his hands. “Don, it isn’t right. You — you went through a horrible experience, and — and part of it was what we did, what I forced you to do. Now you’re confused and lonely and you — you want to feel the way you did back in that cell… with me.” Her voice cracked. “But it isn’t right. You’re confused, Don, and this shouldn’t happen just because… because of what Racer did to you.”

The confusion slowly ebbed in his eyes, replaced by something darker and more sorrowful. His gaze slowly turned down towards her hands, tangled together with his, and he sighed deeply. 

“I understand, April,” he said, his voice so soft that she could barely hear it.

April raised a trembling hand to touch Don’s cheek, and for a moment she could remember nothing but how it had felt to kiss him — and then she desperately wanted to do it again. But then she tore herself away, moved swiftly back out into the light of the open lair, leaving Don behind her. She didn’t trust herself to be around him right now… not after what had nearly happened between them. Again.

And as if taunting her, the memory of their past intimacy flooded into her head. The taste of Don’s lips against hers, the smell of his sweating skin, the way his body had trembled and stiffened as she moved against him, his gasps and faint cries, the slow-building, pulsing pleasure… and guilt flooded her mind, as she remembered that he hadn’t consented to any of it. Neither had she. And yet now he craved more. And so did she, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

She made her way almost blindly down to the main level. Leo was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, anxious and watchful, and she saw concern cross his face at her visible distress. “What’s wrong, April?” he said.

“N—nothing,” April said, straightening her shirt and hoping it wasn’t too obvious what she had been doing. “But I need to talk to Master Splinter.”

“He’s in his room,” Leo said. “He’s been meditating on what to do about Don.”

April gratefully rushed over to the shoji door that led to Splinter’s private room. She had no idea what to do about Don, but she knew that Splinter would be able to help her — the wise old rat always seemed to know the right thing to do when it came to his sons. She knocked on the door with a shaking hand.

“Come in, Miss O’Neil,” his soft voice said.

As she slid the door shut behind her, April breathed a sigh of relief. Splinter’s dimly-lit chambers smelled of incense, tea and old cloth; the stone floor was interrupted by tatami mats and a zen stone garden, and a small bonsai tree bloomed on a low table. It was a place that ought to have felt cold, with the high stone walls and floor, but Splinter’s influence warmed it into a comforting, safe place.

The mutant rat was pouring tea into two small cups, as if he had been expecting her all along. “Come, sit here,” he said quietly.

April felt her stomach twisting as she accepted one of the teacups. She wasn’t sure how to tell Splinter what she needed to say. To her mild relief, he seemed to be in no hurry to ask her what had happened — why she looked so disheveled and upset.

“Miss O’Neil,” he said quietly. “Leonardo spoke to me about what you attempted with Donatello. I am very grateful for your intervention.” He placed a clawed hand on her arm, and looked at the translucent wall that faced out into the living room. “I… have spent many years attempting to prepare my sons for any dangers that they might face. I thought that I had taught them all they would need to know about their enemies.” 

Until the last few weeks, April had thought the same. The Turtles were only seventeen years old, but they were finely-honed warriors who had been prepared to handle almost any kind of enemy. Their ninja skills — along with Don’s scientific knowledge — were enough to keep them safe from almost anything. Almost.

“But this is one thing that I never thought would happen to one of my sons,” Splinter said quietly. “And I find it very difficult to know what to do to assuage Donatello’s pain. So I am grateful for your help.”

April stared down into the amber-colored tea, feeling worse with every word he spoke. She found herself wondering if Splinter had figured out what had happened between her and Don during their imprisonment — and if so, whether he realized that some of Don’s pain had come from her.

“I — tried to talk to Don,” April said haltingly. “He’s blaming himself for our capture, and he’s — he’s having nightmares. And…” She paused, not sure how to phrase it.

“And?” Splinter prompted, his eyes keen.

“I think what happened to him — what Racer did to him — to us — has confused him. He — kissed me.”

Splinter’s brows raised. “He kissed you?” he said slowly.

 _And I kissed him back. And we almost made love…_ The words hovered on the tip of April’s tongue, but she couldn’t think of a way to say it that wouldn’t lead to questions about what had happened between them in the cell. And she wasn’t sure if she should tell Splinter about that — she knew that he ought to know, but she didn’t want to say anything without Don’s permission. She stared down at her clenched fist on her knees, torn between telling Splinter everything that had happened and keeping it between herself and Don for the moment.

“You believe that his… assault has led to this confusion?” Splinter said slowly. 

“Not — exactly,” April said hesitantly, her heart creeping up into her throat. “There was — that is — when we were in the cell together — we had to — they made us —“

“He ain’t confused,” a gruff voice said from outside, so suddenly that April nearly dropped her teacup. 

The shoji door slid open, and April found herself staring up at Raph. He leaned against the frame of the door, apparently unashamed at having openly eavesdropped on his father and friend. Instead, he was looking down at her with a fierce expression, almost as if he wanted to fight her over something.

“What?” April said.

The red-masked Turtle shifted towards her, his eyes intently focused on her face. “He ain’t confused,” Raph repeated. “Not about that, anyway. He’s been in love with you for years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are appreciated and treasured.


	34. Romantic Revelations

Silence fell over the room, like the long quiet moments following a loud thunderclap. April stared at Raph for what felt like hours, his words ringing in her ears — she understood what they meant, but it somehow didn't feel real that they applied to her. She looked quickly at Splinter, expecting the mutant rat to look as shocked as she felt, but found him watching her with solemn dark eyes.

"What?" she whispered.

Raph's expression lost none of its fierceness, but his eyes flickered with uncertainty. "You gotta know already," he said, shutting the shoji door behind him. "Almost everybody who knows Donnie knows. It was obvious."

April's hands shook slightly as she set down the teacup, afraid that she would drop it if she didn't. "No, I — I didn't," she said faintly. "How long…?"

"I dunno when he really fell in love with you," Raph said, looking a little shaken. "But I know he started likin' you on the day we took care of Stocktronics and the Mousers once'n for all."

"But — that was the first day we knew each other," April said.

"Yeah, it was. And I saw how Don was lookin' at you."

"He was — looking at me…" April said slowly. A memory flashed into her mind — of Don at the end of that day's adventure, when they were celebrating the destruction of Baxter Stockman's robots. As Splinter had mentioned that she was now out of a job, Don had come towards her with a wide smile on his face. "We'll help you get back on your feet," he had said earnestly. And though April had known him for less than a day, the warm, bright look in his eyes had left her sure that he would give her whatever help he could.

Now that she thought back, that bright warmth had been in his eyes whenever she saw him, over the few years she had known him. She had never seen him without it, and had simply assumed that it was the way he looked all the time — that it was simply his personality.

But it was more than that. He had looked that way when they had embraced less than fifteen minutes ago — had it really been so little time? — watching her with wide, luminous eyes during the brief moment when they hadn't been kissing. He had watched her that way during their captivity, during the brief moments of peace. She should have figured it out long ago…

"I never knew," she said softly.

"Perhaps you were not ready to know," Splinter said quietly. "And perhaps Donatello was not ready for you to know. He showed you his love in what ways he dared, whenever he could."

Another vision flickered through April's memory — of Don tangled in the guts of her furnace, seemingly content to tinker with simpler machines for her convenience. Every time something in her apartment or store had broken, he was always eager to repair it — never expecting a reward or postponing it for his own projects. Had he done those things as silent demonstrations of his feelings for her?

And she remembered other nights he had spent with her — the long hours of experimentation and tinkering long after the other Turtles had collapsed into their beds. It had just been the two of them in the darkened lair, immersed in their joint projects, their minds dancing in perfect tandem as they exchanged ideas, brainstormed together, and sometimes simply talked until dawn, drinking coffee to keep themselves lucid.

Don had always looked so happy when they did that — no matter how tired he became, no matter how frustrating their experiments were. He had been happy, she realized with growing shock, just because she had been there, and they had been together. He had treasured what time he could have with her, not caring that there had been nothing romantic in their long sleepless nights.

He had never said a word to her. Never a hint of what he felt. He had simply stayed in her presence whenever he could, showing his feelings by simply working alongside her.

April looked down at her fists, pressed against her knees. "I never knew," she repeated.

"I still can't believe you didn't figure it out," Raph said. "We've all known since… well, for a long time now. Even Mikey figured it out—"

"But I can't," April said faintly.

Raph stiffened. "Can't?"

"I can't — be with Don," April said, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"Why the shell not?" Raph demanded, his voice rising.

"Raphael —" Splinter said warningly.

April swallowed hard. "Because he — he's only seventeen. I couldn't —"

"Lemme get this straight," Raph said, sounding half irritated and half incredulous. "You ain't rejectin' him for being a mutant turtle. You're pushin' him away because… he's a _teenage_ mutant turtle."

"It isn't right," April said feebly, echoing the words she had spoken to Don. "I'm twenty-four. I was seven years old when he was born — hatched."

Raph slapped a hand against his forehead, and uttered a gravelly groan.

Splinter placed a hand on his shell, and said in a quiet but warning tone, "Be careful, Raphael. Speak wisely."

Raphael grunted. "Maybe it wouldn't be right if we were humans," he said gruffly. He struck his broad chest with a fist. "But we ain't human. Donnie's not a normal seventeen-year-old — he's a ninja, and he's a scientist, and he does stuff that regular teenagers couldn't even start to do. He's more adult than a lot of actual adults I've seen." He leaned forward, staring into April's eyes. "And it ain't like we have lots of options, April. It ain't like Don can just go out and find some seventeen-year-old girl to go to prom with instead of you. We barely know any women, and we don't know any our own age." His hands clenched into fists, and he rose to stalk back and forth across the room.

April watched him pace for a moment, before her gaze sank back down to her hands. She had to admit that Raph made some valid points — she knew that the Turtles couldn't be held entirely to human standards, and their lives were so different from human lives as to be incomparable. Yet she couldn't forget that Don was only seventeen — it made her feel like a predator to think about him in that way…

And there was something else, something Raph didn't know. Don hadn't told him about what had happened between himself and April. She still didn't know how much of Don's current desire was based on his feelings for her, and how much was him seeking comfort in the aftermath of a rape. She didn't know what psychological effects their intercourse might have had on him, or whether he might want to regain that feeling.

"Don't turn him down just 'cause he's young," Raph said abruptly, looking down at her with pleading in his eyes. "He loves you, and he's not gonna stop."

"You have expressed your thoughts well, Raphael," Splinter said, making a gesture with one clawed hand. "Now be quiet."

Raph's eyes were smoldering as he dropped down to his knees, and at first April wasn't sure why. He looked almost angry at her, even though she hadn't done anything — as far as he knew, anyway — to deserve his anger. For a moment she wondered if he somehow knew about what had happened between her and Don during their captivity, and was angry at her for forcing herself on his brother.

But then she remembered what Don had told her: that Raph protected him in battle, that the red-masked Turtle always watched his back. And he wanted to protect Don now, in a different way — he wanted to protect him from heartbreak if April rejected him. And he must think that she was going to reject him, if he was preemptively getting angry at her.

"I need to talk to Donnie," she said faintly. "I need to — I need to sort this out with him."

"I think that would be wise," Splinter said quietly. "But first, Miss O'Neil, I would like to speak to you privately." He looked at Raphael. "You may go, Raphael. And we will speak later about listening at doors."

Raphael looked like he wanted to say something more, but he stepped out of Splinter's room, and closed the door behind him. April heard his footsteps growing fainter, until they heard the distant telltale clink of weights. Apparently he had decided to vent by exercising.

"Unlike Raphael," Splinter said quietly, "I am aware that you are not required to reciprocate Donatello's feelings." He bowed his head slightly, a saddened expression on his face. "However, I also know that he is in a very fragile state at the moment. His spirit has been badly wounded, and such wounds do not heal easily or quickly. They can also deepen if not treated well. Whatever your decision regarding Donatello is, I ask you — as his father — to be careful of his heart."

"I'll — do my best," April said. She still had no idea what she was going to say to Don, and that knotted her stomach with anxiety.

"There is one other thing to speak of," Splinter said, folding his hands. "I did not wish to speak of this before Raphael, since neither yourself nor Donatello has seen fit to share it." He met April's gaze, steadily and serenely. "I know of your… intimacies with Donatello during your captivity."

April felt a deep flush coming over her face. "H—how did you know?" she said haltingly.

He smiled gently. "I am a rat, Miss O'Neil. My sense of smell is extremely acute, and I could smell Donatello's scent on your body, and yours on his. Your mating was obvious to those who know what to detect, though his brothers did not." His smile faded. "I did not speak of it to you before because I believed that you and Donatello had sought solace in one another while you were captives. But since you did not know of Donatello's feelings for you — and neither of you have been forthcoming about what happened — I can only assume that you were forced to mate."

April felt tears pricking her eyes. She bowed her head slightly, and murmured, "Yes, you're right — Racer — he forced me to — to —"

"You need not speak of what happened," Splinter said quietly, placing his hand on hers. "You have been wounded as well as Donatello, even if my sons have not yet learned of it. And though I cannot heal you any more than I can my son, I can offer you my support and care as you recover."

The tears were welling up and trickling down her cheeks now, and April rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She felt like a raw gash had been torn open inside her chest, but the pain was something of a relief — someone knew what had happened, and they understood. She could feel Splinter's clawed, furry hand resting on her cheek, wiping at the tears as they streamed down to her chin.

Gradually the tears dried, and her damp snuffling and sobs began to fade. Splinter held a scrap of cloth to her face, and April gratefully used it to mop the tears away. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Go," Splinter said quietly. "Speak to Donatello about what has happened. But be gentle with him, and with yourself."


	35. Figuring It Out

When April stepped out into the lair, she found herself staring into the eyes of three Turtles and one very confused-looking human. She could feel Leo's concern as he saw her reddened eyes and tear-streaked face. Raph, who was sitting on his weight bench, was still eyeing her fiercely — she could tell from his expression that he wasn't going to forgive her if she broke Don's heart.

"April, are you all right?" Leo said, putting a hand on her arm.

"I'm fine," April said, smiling at him. "I just need to go talk to Don again for a little while."

"Do you want me to accompany you up there?"

"No, I'm fine, Leo. Don and I have a lot of things to discuss."

Still, she walked slowly up the stairs, turning over half-formed sentences in her head as she tried to figure out what she could say to Don. What she _should_ say. She thought back to his face when she had last seen it — the sorrow in his eyes as she had said that she couldn't make love with him, that it wouldn't be right. He must have seen it as a rejection, she thought miserably. She had to tell him that she wasn't rejecting him — that she hadn't realized that he had loved her all along.

The desk lamp was still shining, sending dark shadows looming up the stone walls. For a moment, April thought that Don had somehow slipped out of his bedroom without his brothers noticing — he wasn't in his bed over her, and he wasn't visible at any of the desks or tables scattered around his room. But then she saw the curve of a shell on the futon couch — Don was lying face-down on it, motionless.

Her heart almost stopped at the sight of him, crumpled forward and unmoving. She dashed forwards and seized one of his arms, desperately tugging him onto his side — only for him to moan softly, as if in protest, and rest his head against her knee. Relief flooded through her as she saw that he wasn't hurt, only asleep.

His face looked oddly peaceful, but April wondered what he was dreaming about and when the dreams of Racer would begin tormenting him. She lightly touched his face, looking down at him — and suddenly she felt her eyes being drawn to his lips. He had been so unsure, but so eager when he kissed her. Even though he had clearly known little of what to do, he had held her with a kind of shy passion that had drawn her in.

April smiled slightly. She hadn't thought much about it before, but she had probably been Don's first kiss. Then her smile died as she remembered when she had first kissed him, with the Dragons' taunts ringing in their ears.

For a moment, she was tempted to kiss him again, but she fiercely pushed away the momentary impulse — the last thing she wanted to do was force attentions on him, after all he had suffered. Instead, she curled up on the edge of the futon, resting her head against Don's plastron, listening to the faint thudding of his heart. Her hand rested in his, gently curving his fingers around her own.

She didn't know how long he would be asleep, but it would probably be a while. He must have been so exhausted, she reflected, if he was awoken by nightmares whenever he slept. No wonder he had just slumped over and fallen asleep where he sat… although she wondered if he had been depressed over being rejected…

"April?"

She raised her head, and found him looking down at her quizzically, his soft eyes searching her face. "I'm getting mixed messages," he said quietly. "You told me it was wrong to kiss me, then you come back to my bedroom and lie on me."

April felt a flush coming over her face as she sat up, straightening her shirt. "Sorry, Don," she said softly. "I was just coming to ask — when you kissed me before —"

"No," Don said quietly.

April hesitated, her question dying on her lips.

Don hunched forward on the futon, resting his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and his voice was tinged with shame. "I wanted to tell you… you were right, April. When you stopped me. When we — when we had intercourse, it was the only thing in that place that hadn't hurt me — that had made me feel anything good." His eyes flickered. "When I kissed you and — and tried to do more — I was trying to recapture that feeling. It was selfish and wrong, and I hope you can forgive me, and we can just—"

His voice faltered as April's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close to her until his head was resting against her shoulder again. Her fingers squeezed his shoulder fiercely, and her head dropped down to rest against the top of his head. Hesitantly, Don raised his hands to rest against April's back, awkwardly hugging her close.

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt about me?" she whispered, stroking his shell.

He stiffened, and his eyes widened. For a moment, he seemed unsure what to say. "Did Mikey tell you?" he said at last.

"Raph."

Don sighed, closing his eyes and pressing closer to April's shoulder, as if afraid she was going to thrust him away.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she repeated softly.

"I knew you didn't want me. I didn't want to drive you away."

"How could you ever drive me away?" April said, holding him tighter.

He drew back slightly, looking up at her with wide, deep eyes that held sadness in their depths. April felt her heart twist at the familiarity of it. She had seen it in the cell, when he had been in her arms, still inside her — a look as though his heart was breaking, but he had learned to live with the pain that came with it. She hadn't known what it meant then. She did now.

"I'm a mutant turtle, April," he said quietly. "My mutation has made me much more like a human than an ordinary turtle, but… I still am a turtle. I'm not human, and I'll never resemble one. I knew you wouldn't want me — and if I made you uncomfortable by telling you how I felt, I knew you wouldn't feel right around me."

"Don, I…"

"Please, April… please let me finish. I saw how you interacted with Casey," Don said softly. "I could tell you were attracted to him, even when you weren't getting along. I knew that you would never look at me the same way you looked at him, so I — I accepted that." He swallowed convulsively. "I don't blame you — it's only natural to be attracted to one's own species, and not to people of other—"

Her hand trembled as it touched his face, cutting off his protests with a caress. His eyes closed and his breath caught, and one of his large hands came up to press her fingers against his cheek, as if he was trying to memorize her touch.

"I didn't want to drive you away with unwanted attention, because I — I wanted to be near you. I wanted to be near you so badly." His voice faltered. "So I decided never to tell you the truth, so I wouldn't ruin the friendship we had, and to just… accept what time I had with you. To be whatever you wanted me to be, and be happy with that."

Every word tore at April's heart, and she felt her fingers digging into his flesh, as though afraid he would try to slip away from her. All she could imagine was Don watching her exchanges with Casey, believing he had no chance with her — that the human male was all she wanted, and that a mutant turtle was something she could never be interested in. And then a whirlwind of moments and long late nights flew through her mind — Don in his lab, his face open and shining as they worked together over coffee and stale bagels. That was all he thought he would ever have with her: moments of platonic togetherness, as close as two minds could be without romantic love.

He was wrong, she thought fiercely, rubbing her thumb over the corner of his eye. He deserved so much more than stolen scraps of time with her, hiding his feelings as if he had something to be ashamed of. He deserved to be given love, as much love as he had to give and more. And she didn't care that he was a mutant turtle rather than an ordinary human — he was Don, and that was what mattered.

"So, please… please just forget everything Raph told you," Don said desperately. "Please forget what I did. I just want things to be the way they used to be."

"I can't forget, Don," April said softly. "And things can't be the way they used to be."

She stroked her hand gently down the length of Don's face, feeling his hand shake slightly as it clung to her fingers. His body tensed slightly as he heard her words, and she saw fear flicker to life in his eyes. This wasn't right. She had to show him that she wasn't going to abandon him because of how he felt about her.

Gently she pulled him closer still, murmuring comforting words as she rubbed his broad shoulders and his shell. His eyes closed as her arm moved to rest against the back of his neck, drawing him nearer. They were close — so close she could feel the warmth radiating from him, so close that they could easily hold one another with only a motion of their arms.

She felt his soft intake of breath at her closeness, and slowly let her lips linger on the skin around his mouth, moving them slowly across his face. She waited for some sign that he was uncomfortable, that he wanted the intimate touch to stop — but there was nothing. He stayed still in her arms, his breath coming harder and faster as she moved her lips over his face, his pulse racing against her skin.

"April," Don whispered. "Please — don't do this to me unless you really mean it…"

"I do mean it," April said softly, feeling electricity tingling on her skin as her lips finally slid over his. She felt him quiver at the touch, before his strong arms slid around her and pulled her closer still, kissing her almost reverently. And for a few moments, April didn't think of anyone or anything except Don's arms around her, and his lips on hers.


	36. Yes Or No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done with the first part of the fanfic here - while Don is going to still be dealing with the repercussions of his rape, something big is coming up soon that is going to take up the characters' attention.

They were both breathless as they broke from the kiss, clinging to one another with desperate hands. The futon creaked under them as Don sank back against it, with April pressed against his plastron. Looking down at his eyes, April could suddenly remember the way he had looked in the cell — helpless, desperate, his hands clinging to her with all his strength.

Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly as she tried not to think about how close she had come to losing him. If the others hadn't come when they had, she thought, then he would have been at Racer's mercy again — and she didn't want to think about what Racer would have done to him next, once the burden of keeping him alive and more-or-less whole had been lifted. He had been a sadist — a monster — and April was glad he was dead. Glad Raph had told him, and given Don that little bit of peace.

Don's hands slipped around her waist, holding her close as he started to kiss her again. And for a moment April melted against him, fiercely grateful that Don was here with her — that he was alive, and his spirit could be fixed, and Racer hadn't taken him from her. But suddenly a flood of thoughts from her talk with Raph came cascading back into her mind, and she lurched back away from him.

"We can't — I don't know if I can do this," she gasped.

Don's dark eyes slowly rose to meet hers, confusion rising in their depths. She felt one of his hands rising to touch her face, as if he was afraid she was going to slip away, and she quickly interwove her fingers with his, trying to reassure him. He had been through so much — he didn't deserve to worry about her now.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I just — I don't know if this is right," she said hesitantly.

The confusion grew more intense. "I don't understand," he said, his fingers squeezing hers gently.

April sighed. "You know, morally right," she said hesitantly.

"I still don't understand."

"Donnie — you're only seventeen," April said. "If you were a human, you would have a whole life that had nothing to do with me — high school, getting ready for college, girls, friends." She bit her lip, trying to find the right words to convey what she was thinking. "And, Don, you have even less experience than boys that age do, because you never spent time with girls growing up. I was the first woman you ever met, the first woman you ever — ever felt anything for. If you knew more women, perhaps you'd — feel differently —"

"I've met enough women to know it's not just that, April," Don said earnestly.

April's eyes dropped to her knees. "And I'm twenty-four," she said in a small voice. "You're too young for me, Don… or, actually, I'm too old for you."

"You're not!" Don said quickly, distress seeping into his voice. "April, I don't care about our ages. I never cared."

"I know, Don. I know you don't," April said, pressing her lips to his knuckles. "But… it doesn't feel right to me right now. I know what I would think of any other person my age having a relationship with someone who was only seventeen."

"Even if that relationship was with a mutant turtle?"

She tried not to smile. "Yes, Donnie, even then."

He bowed his head slightly. "Seventeen is the age of consent in New York," he said in a low voice. "It's not wrong, April. "

"Did you look that up?" she said incredulously.

He smiled crookedly at her. "I may have. Just out of curiosity." But the smile faded away as he watched her face, the shifting shades in her green eyes as she thought. "If — if that's all that bothers you, April, I'll be eighteen in another nine months. If we waited that long—"

His voice caught as something else flickered across her face, and his voice died away. He pressed his other hand to their entwined ones, drawing it closer to his chest, as if the feel of his heart would convince her of what he kept inside it. April leaned closer, resting her forehead against his, almost able to feel how fragile he was right now, how easily a wrong word would tear him. Splinter had been right. She had to be careful, so very careful with his heart, in case she crushed it by accident. No wonder Raphael had been so paranoid about her hurting him.

"It's — not the only reason you don't want this, isn't it?" he said quietly, dread creeping into his voice.

"I don't — I don't know," April said faintly. Guilt and confusion were churning up inside her, as she remembered her conversation with Splinter. But she knew that she had to speak quickly — Don was looking up at her with pleading, uncertain eyes, waiting to know why she was holding herself apart from him.

"It's not about wanting, Don," she said, resting her other hand against his face. "I honestly don't know what I want right now, and… and even if I weren't confused, it's about what's the right thing to do. You're so fragile right now, Don. The reason I'm here is because your brothers are so worried about you falling apart on them. What happened — what I did —what Racer did to you — "

April saw a clouded shadow pass behind his eyes at the reminder of the man who had raped him. Her heart clenched from the guilt inside it, as she remembered the part she had played, how much he had suffered for her sake — but she pushed those feelings away to the corner of her mind. She had to focus on him right now, and not her own guilt.

"You're hurt, Don," she said softly, cradling his face in her hand. "I've never seen you like this before, and neither has anyone in your family. You're hurt on the inside, and it's going to take some time for you to heal as much as you can."

He closed his eyes, swaying toward her with their joined hands pressed against his chest. "I know," he said quietly. "It hurts… every time I try to talk to them, I feel like I'm looking across an abyss, and they can't really hear me. It's different with you — because you were there, and you saw it." His face twisted. "Even though I wish you hadn't. I felt so… weak."

"You're not weak," April said fiercely. "Never say that, Don! Someone who was weak wouldn't have protected me the way you did. Someone who was weak would have given up already." She pulled her hands loose and threw her arms around him, resting her cheek against his. "But at the same time, I can't give you what you want, Don. Not right now. You said you wanted this — wanted me — partly because you needed something that made you feel good and loved, during a time when you were feeling only pain." Her fingers dug into his shell, as she drew back so she could look in his eyes. "If I did what you wanted now, I would always feel like I took advantage of you when you were hurt. And it wouldn't help you heal. Not really."

"I — I think I understand," he said faintly.

"You don't need me right now, Don. You need healing — you need time — you need the care of everyone around you. And I'll be there for you, right along with your brothers." She squeezed him again, his earthy, musky scent filling her senses. "You're not alone. You don't need to hide in here."

His head rested against her shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath washing over her skin. She raised a hand to gently stroke over the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the tails of his mask.

April pressed her lips to his forehead, lingering long enough to hold him close against her body. "This isn't a 'no,' Don," she murmured. "It isn't a rejection. It means — I need time. I need to think about this. I need to figure out what's best for both of us. I need — I need time to figure out what I've done wrong. And you need time too…"

He nodded slightly, resting his face against her cheek. "I can wait as long as I need to, April. As long as you need," he said softly, his eyes watching her.

She was tempted to kiss him one more time, to lose herself in his caress again before she had to leave. But instead, she hugged him tightly, gently running her hand over his shell. "We'll figure out what we are to each other later," she said softly. "Don't worry, Don. I'm not going to abandon you, no matter what."

And she had never meant anything so much in her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are very much desired.


	37. Raph's Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews are desired. :D

It hurt every time he lifted the barbell — a burning sensation in the muscles of his chest and arms, followed by a dull ache. But it was a good kind of pain. It helped him focus his thoughts whenever he felt confused or conflicted by something, and he needed that kind of focus right now.

Raph grunted as he pushed the bar away from his chest, up towards Leo. His brother had been spotting him for almost half an hour now, for as long as April had been up in Donnie's room. He could have asked Mikey to spot him, but Leo was less likely to talk a mile a minute about comic books and monster movies, and more likely to just wait for Raph to start wobbling. And right now, Raph needed the quiet.

He could tell Leo was thinking about the same thing he was: wondering what April was saying and doing up in that bedroom. She had been up there for ages now, and all three Turtles were slowly dying of curiosity about what was unfolding there. Raph had paused in his weightlifting a while ago to listen, but he hadn't been able to hear anything. He'd have to go up to the second level and lurk outside the door to hear them talking, and he was pretty sure Leo wouldn't let him do that without a fight.

Raph grimaced, and lifted again with a groan. He couldn't shake the feelings of uneasiness that had haunted him ever since he had left Splinter's room. He wasn't sure if he had done the right thing, blurting out how Don felt to April — it was something Don had kept private, even though his brothers and father had all known. He hadn't spoken of it, and Raph had the feeling he hadn't planned to ever tell April of his feelings.

And Raph himself wouldn't have said anything if he hadn't heard April say that Don had kissed her. Kissed her. It was kind of surprising that Don would have done something like that — especially after what had happened to him — but Raph had no idea what the psychological effects had been on his brother. Maybe it was totally normal to do something weird like that.

But there was no turning back now. April knew, and she was probably talking to Don about it now. The desire to know what they were saying itched at Raph like a tickle under his shell, and he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that it was taking so long. If she were just going to reject him out of hand, it wouldn't take long, right? Or had she upset Don by turning him down, and was trying to calm him now?

While April was his friend, Raph knew that he was never going to forgive April if she hurt Don — if she didn't take his feelings seriously, or decided she didn't want to be around him anymore. His brother was fragile enough without the first and only woman he had ever loved pushing him away. Breaking up amicably with Casey was one thing; Raph hadn't understood it, but he had accepted it. Hurting Don — especially when he was already so broken — was another.

Suddenly Leo stiffened and looked up, and Raph quickly set the bar up above him. April had emerged from Don's bedroom, looking kind of rumpled — she was smoothing her shirt down and tucking away a few stray wisps of red hair. As she came down the steps, Raph sat up on the weight bench with a grunt, and watched her face closely for some sign of what had happened.

She didn't look happy, but she didn't look upset either. Her eyes were still a little red, but she smiled faintly as she saw Leo.

"Leo, Don says he's ready for an examination," she said. "He said you'd know what to do."

Leo visibly relaxed at that. It was probably a good sign, Raph reflected — if Don were devastated by rejection, he probably wouldn't care about Leo checking the injuries from his rape.

"Hey, April," Casey called out, emerging from the kitchen. "You were up there a real long time."

"Yeah, I guess I was," April said, her eyes suddenly turning to the floor.

"You had a real long talk with Don about what's wrong with him?"

"Yeah, we — we talked a lot, about different things," April said. Her pale cheeks had started to flush.

"Dunno why it took so long," Casey said, glancing up at the upper level. "I mean, he got beat up — it happens. No need to mope about it."

Raph wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that Casey was a colossal bonehead. On one hand, it meant he hadn't figured out what happened to Don, and thus news of his brother's assault hadn't spread to yet another person. On the other… it meant Casey had no idea what he was talking about. At all.

"So, uh," Leo said. "I'll just go upstairs and give Don a quick checkup. Don't wait for me."

He leaped up onto the second level and vanished into Don's bedroom. Raph grunted and turned back to April, feeling an awkward kind of distance between them — a prickly, unnerving silence that he had to try to get across.

"So, uh, did you talk to Don about that subject we talked about?" he said, crossing his arms.

April looked at him, and the flush in her cheeks deepened. So she had.

"Yeah," she said a little uncomfortably, shifting her shoulders. "We talked about it for a little while. He's feeling a little better now."

Raph frowned. He wasn't sure what to make of April's reaction. She didn't seem like she had rejected his feelings, which would probably crush him and riddle her with guilt — plus, if she had, he probably wouldn't care about Leo examining him. But she didn't act like she had accepted those feelings either — she didn't seem entirely happy or comfortable. Exactly what had happened up in that room? And why did April keep touching her lips?

"So, didja convince Don to come out of his bedroom?" Mikey piped up, leaning over the back of the couch. "It's really weird being down here without him around."

"He's probably going to spend a little more time up there," April said. "He's pretty tired… and so am I." She stretched an arm over her head. "I think I need to go home for awhile and take a nap."

"I'll drive with ya, just to make sure there ain't anyone lurkin' around," Casey volunteered gallantly.

Raph watched the figures of the two retreating humans, his eyes narrowing slightly. April paused outside the garage, and glanced up at Don's bedroom with an expression that Raph didn't recognize, but which seemed somehow familiar — a warmth in her faint smile, but also a sadness. Then she turned back towards her van, and was gone from the lair, leaving Raph with far more questions than answers.


	38. Recovery and Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freely admit that I have no experience personally with the aftermath of a rape, so please tell me if I screw anything up.
> 
> As always, reviews are much desired.

He didn't feel ready.

Inside, Don still felt like something that had fallen to pieces and been loosely stitched back together, and might fall apart again if he wasn't careful. That hollow, aching feeling still filled his chest, spreading through his veins like a poisonous void. But as he stepped out of his room, he reflected that he couldn't wait until he felt ready — it might never happen unless he pushed himself. It was only a shame it had taken him two days to finally stir from his room.

Two days. Two days since April had come to his room to talk to him. Two days since she had found out how he felt about her. His stomach still twisted nervously when he thought about it, and the strange unfinished note that their meeting had ended on.

He jumped down lightly onto the first floor, and headed into the kitchen. All three of his brothers were there — Mikey was pouring kibble into a bowl for Klunk, Leo was immersed in a bowl of soggy cereal, and Raph was eating a piece of peanut-buttered toast very aggressively as if he wanted to kill it. Don stepped silently into the room, and reached out to put his hand on Leo's shoulder…

"Donnie!" Mikey bellowed.

Don nearly jumped out of his shell. With a raucous laugh, Mikey vaulted himself over the kitchen table, almost kicking Raph in the face, and landed directly in front of Don. For a moment, Don thought his brother was going to bear-hug him, but Mikey instead settled for grabbing his hand tightly.

"It's about time you came down!" he said, smiling. "Leo and Raph have been a real pain in my shell when you're not around!"

Raph lurched off the bench and smacked Mikey on the back of the head, eliciting a pained "Ow!" from him. "I'll give you a pain in the shell," he snapped.

"Raph's basically like this all the time," Mikey said ruefully. "Leo's more mopey than cranky."

Don smiled a little at the usual antics of his brothers — Mikey was energetic and spoke more than he thought, Raph was fiery and quick to smack Mikey for his behavior, and Leo was standing off to the side with a disapproving expression aimed at Raph. On the surface, everything was normal with his brothers, as if nothing unusual had happened in the recent past.

But he felt a dull ache in his heart as he saw the looks in their eyes. There was something there that he had never seen before — a kind of relief that he was back in their midst, even if he didn't feel whole. He knew they had been worried about him — Leo had been visiting him at least once a day, and his concern had been obvious. But somehow it felt even more real when they were all together. Raph was hovering over him silently, as if expecting Don to need his help — or his defense.

"Welcome back, Don," Leo said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Leo," Don said quietly, although he wasn't sure just how "back" he was. "I was wondering… if I could do training with you guys for a little while."

"You don't have to ask permission."

Master Splinter looked worried when Leo mentioned that Don would be working out with them, but he nodded briskly. Don took his place between Raph and Mikey, and tried to steady his body as they began their exercises — kicks and punches, different martial-arts movements that forced his stiff muscles to warm up. Master Splinter called out what he wanted to see them do, his intent black eyes watching them carefully for any mistakes.

An hour passed in this way, with Don losing himself in the familiar moves of different martial arts styles. The hollow ache seemed to lessen as he tried to focus more on the moment than on the pain itself, after so many days of being immersed in it. Focus on the moment. Focus on the next kick — the next strike of his arm — focus on his stance, his position, the placement of his feet on the floor — focus on the way his body moved through the air — the way his limbs stood, bent, moved against his torso —

Then a hand touched him from behind. He stiffened, a flash of hot wild fear running through thinking, one of his hands raised over his head, ready to lash out.

"Sorry!" Leo said, drawing back sharply. "I'm sorry."

Don let out a raw, rough breath, letting his hand drop. "Y—you just startled me," he said.

"I just wanted to tell you that we're done for the day," Leo said. "Master Splinter says there won't be any sparring."

Don stared hollowly at his brother for a moment, feeling misery welling up inside him. This was because he had joined his brothers this morning — because he had lost control last time, Master Splinter didn't think he could hold it together now. Of course, Don wasn't entirely sure he could, either — a mere touch on the shoulder still sent terror through him. Even when he wasn't actively remembering the rape, his body remembered. It remembered pain, violation, loss.

"Are you all right?" Leo said, his voice growing more concerned.

"I — I need a little time to myself," Don said, turning away.

His first impulse was to retreat back to his bedroom and wrap the shadows around himself like a cloak. But he instead forced himself to move through the lair, to the topless train car that served as his lab. A thin layer of dust lay over his worktables and everything that lay on them: the half-disassembled robots, a jumble of test tubes, an empty pizza box left over from the nights before he had left it behind. He hadn't been here in almost two weeks — since the morning when he was kidnapped.

Don huddled over against his worktable, his eyes tracing the broken Shell Cell he had left lying there. Well, it was a place to start. With shaking hands, he began taking it apart.

 

Weeks passed, and nothing changed for Donatello.

Every morning, he emerged from his room and engaged in training with his brothers — at least an hour of moving through martial-arts forms and moves. Master Splinter didn't allow him to engage in sparring, though. He watched as his brothers took turns fighting one another, feeling the hollow feeling inside him bloom into a sense of helplessness.

When that was complete, he slipped away to his lab and spent long hours immersed in the machines and experiments there. When evening rolled around, Leo would slip into his lab and quietly ask, "Do you want to come with us on a rooftop run, Donnie?"

And Don would inevitably shake his head. Not that night. Not yet. He wasn't ready to leave his home and face the world outside.

He had hoped that spending more time with his brothers would alleviate their worries, and might lessen the hollow feeling inside him. But if anything, his continued presence seemed to worry them more, as they reached out toward him and found him still encased in his own pain, enwrapped in the memories that still haunted him. He could almost feel his brothers' hands grasping for him and coming away empty, desperately trying to pull him back before they lost him for good.

He wanted to be with them. He just didn't know how. Togetherness for them had always been a natural thing, and he found that he didn't know how to reach for them deliberately.

April and Casey came nearly every day to check on him — April in particular never missed a visit, seemingly fulfilling her promise not to abandon him. She usually slipped into his lab and sat beside him, helping him tinker with devices of his own design and going through abandoned projects and experiments. Her green eyes were always worried, but her hands were steady as she gently squeezed his arm.

She never said a word about what had passed between them. At times Don almost wondered if it had all been a dream, inspired by their forced coupling in that prison — the memory of holding her in his arms, warm and soft, her mouth hungrily clinging to his own. At times he thought it must have been. Why would April be attracted to a mutant turtle, when a beautiful, loving, intelligent woman like her could have any human male she wanted? She was what he had yearned for, so perhaps he had just imagined that she reciprocated his affections.

But then, sometimes he caught her looking at him when she thought he wasn't watching — a strange wistful expression, which she quickly covered up if he glanced her way. And in turn, Don occasionally saw Raph watching April with an unblinking stare, watching her interactions with Don like a cat observing a dog that it didn't entirely trust.

Whether he had dreamed it or not, Don thought of her every night as he waited for sleep. It was the only antidote he could think of for the nightmares that still ripped through him almost every night. And sometimes it soothed his ravaged nerves to think about her — seeing her face, hearing her voice, feeling her touch. Just as he had in the cell.


	39. Midnight Admissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter doesn't seem too cliched or OOC, but Don really needed to be close to his bros again. Back to April next chapter!
> 
> As always, reviews are muchly appreciated.

_"Scream. Scream out loud, or the woman is next… and you'll get to watch every minute, freak…"_

Don woke with a scream dying in his throat, his body arching as far as it could with his rigid shell. Sweat dripped from his olive-green skin, dripping between the scutes of his plastron and soaking into the sheet wrapped around him. His breath was coming in harsh, panicked gasps that hurt his chest, which slowly dissolved into pained whimpers.

As always, he remained entangled in the dream even after he woke — April's tearful face, and Racer's voice… always his voice, gloating over Don's pain and whispering his intent to rape April. And even though he was awake now, he could still feel that hot, rough, tearing pain in the core of his body, echoing through his bones and tissues. The helplessness. The humiliation.

Don pressed his trembling hands to his face, and stifled a groan. He couldn't take this anymore — it had been more than six weeks since Racer had died, but he was still torturing Don every night. And even though he had healed physically from the assault, he still felt… dirty. Unclean. Just the memory of that monster thrusting inside him…

He shuddered, feeling nausea rising in his throat. Slowly he rose from his bed, sliding down the ladder to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen as he limped out into the open expanse of the lair.

Almost in a daze, he made his way to the bathroom. It was a palatial place for a sewer dwelling, with high stone walls and ceiling, a shoji door for privacy, a washer and dryer, a circular sink that could be used at least four occupants, and an elevated shower surrounded by a curtain. He glanced around as he approached it, but there was nobody in sight. Everyone was asleep.

The hot water poured over his head like a waterfall, streaming over his shaking body and pooling around his feet. It was a good thing he had installed a high-pressure showerhead, he thought. Every particle of sweat and dirt on his body was being swept away by the water, vanishing into the long-forgotten pipes of their home's ancient plumbing.

He squatted down and hunched forward, the blast of hot water pouring over his shoulders and pattering on his shell. He steadied himself by gripping the shower curtain with one hand, while the other gripped a long scrubbing brush and dipped down between his legs. He gritted his teeth as he began scrubbing, feeling the scrapes and twinges of the bristles on newly-healed flesh that was still delicate.

But he didn't care. He couldn't stand it anymore. He needed to be clean.

He shut his eyes, trying to imagine the water washing away every filthy trace of Racer from his body, inside and out. But it didn't work — that tainted, disgusting feeling was still there in his cloaca and between his thighs, where the human had touched him. It was like a toxin that had soaked into his body. He grimaced and scrubbed harder than ever.

He didn't care if it took hours. Or days. He had to get rid of that feeling.

"Donnie?" a voice called. Raph's voice.

His eyes flew open. Dark shadows appeared outside the shower, and the curtain was thrown aside with a rattle of rings. Water cascaded down onto the floor. And suddenly strong arms were thrown around him, pulling him off his feet and dragging him up against something warm and solid, something with muscled flesh pressed up against his own. Panic swelled up inside him, wild and desperate, and he began straining and pulling against the arms. But this time, they didn't let go.

And suddenly Mikey was there too, prying the brush out of his clenched hand. "Come on, Don, be a good Turtle and let go," he said.

"Don?" Leo said, looming above him. His shadowed face was full of concern as he switched off the water.

"Shell, he's bleedin' again," Raph said grimly in his ear. "Donnie, what were you doin'?"

Don pressed his eyes shut. "I — I needed to get clean," he said faintly.

"Shell," Raph said again, putting all his grim anger into that one word. His cheek was resting against Don's, his chin pressed against Don's shoulder.

Don shut his eyes and shuddered, struggling against the swell of blind panic of being held down and restrained. Raphael held him even tighter, one of his strong arms stretching across Don's chest. After a few more minutes of struggling, Don finally went limp, collapsing back against Raph's shoulder with a groan. He looked up hopelessly at Leo and Mikey as they clustered around him, encircling him in his brothers' presence. He knew that they meant well, but he felt trapped — panicked —

"Please — let me go, Raph," Don said hoarsely, trying to pull away.

"Not until you stop this," Raph said.

"Let him go, Raph," Leo's voice said commandingly.

Don felt the arms slowly loosening around him, though Raph remained behind him, his knees pressed against the bottom edge of Don's shell. The fear swamping his mind seemed to break suddenly like a fever, leaving Don shaking and breathing hard. He was still surrounded by his brothers on every side, like a small encircling wall of shell and green flesh.

Leo reached out and put a hand on Don's shell, his eyes overflowing with worry. "Don," he said softly. "It's okay. Just calm down."

Don shook his head. But he felt unexpectedly calmer now that he had been let go, from the proximity of his brothers. He knew he ought to be more frantic at being hemmed in by them, but instead he felt… safer. He was suddenly filled with a bone-deep tiredness, and a desire to slump against them and just let sleep take him. Dreamless sleep.

"Don," Leo said gently, taking one of Don's wet hands between his own. "We want to help you. Please, don't shut us out."

Don's eyes slowly moved up to Leo's. Almost without thinking, he murmured, "He raped me."

He felt Raph tense behind him, and his brother drew in a sharp outraged breath at those three little words. But there was no surprise in Mikey or Leo's faces, just grim acceptance of what he had said. Somehow saying it out loud made it seem more… more real.

"He raped me," he repeated, clutching at Leo's hand. "They were going to rape April, but I stopped them, and Racer did it to me instead. They held me there, and I — I couldn't move." He took a long, shaky breath, and felt Raph gripping his shell, holding him upright with fingers like iron bands. "I — I tried to separate myself from the pain, from what was happening to me, but I — I couldn't."

"Don," Leo said quietly. "I'm so sorry…"

"I can still feel him," Don said brokenly, "inside me…"

"He can't hurt you no more," Raph said fiercely. "He's dead. I saw him die."

"He wanted to hear me scream," Don continued softly, almost as if Raph hadn't spoken. "I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, so — he kept making it more and more painful, harder and harder, trying to break me. I — I didn't break then." He swallowed hard, hunching over himself. "The — the second time it happened, I started becoming — aroused by it. I didn't want to be, but I couldn't stop." His face twisted. "I couldn't control my body, for the first time in my entire life. I was helpless."

"He deserved to die," Raph said fiercely, his gravelly voice becoming a growl. He let go of Don's arms, crouching behind his shell and keeping his hands clamped on Don's shoulders. "And you ain't helpless. You're a ninja Turtle."

"There was more," Don whispered. He felt exhausted and spent from the revelations of what had happened to him, like someone who had been vomiting uncontrollably for a long time. But he couldn't stop — the words had been spilling out of him like water from a faucet. He knelt on the wet shower floor, huddling over and clutching at his own knees, with Raph's strong hands still clutching at his shoulders.

"There's more?" Mikey said incredulously. "What else could they do?"

Leo leaned down and grasped Don's hands tightly, pulling him back upright. He looked strong and steady to Don's eyes — the exact opposite of how he felt. His blue-masked brother was like a solid stone pillar, keeping him standing when he would otherwise have fallen.

"They made me… they forced… I had… intercourse with April," Don said hesitantly.

"They did _what?"_ Raph said, his voice rising in anger.

Don could see the expressions of shock on Mikey and Leo's faces, and feel Raph shaking with rage behind him. He closed his eyes, slumping between Raph and Leo as he murmured, "Racer said something to her — I didn't hear what — and sent her back to me. She was so afraid — I could see it in her eyes. Then she — she started to — she…" He shook slightly, his mind suddenly flooded by the memory of her above him, holding him, her green eyes anguished, of being buried deep inside her… "I still could barely move, so she — she had to do what she could…"

"That rotten sonuva—" Raph snarled.

"Don't blame April, Raph," Don said desperately, turning his head towards his angry brother. "She — she didn't want it. They forced her to. They threatened her somehow — and they — they used me against her — to punish her —" His words were falling from him in broken fragments, and he could feel himself trembling uncontrollably in his brothers' grasps.

"They used you against each other," Leo said gently, putting an arm across Don's shoulders and hugging him tightly. "Both of you were raped, Don."

"That's sick," Mikey said incredulously. "Really sick."

Don slumped forward against Leo's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut in his exhaustion. "I keep reliving it every night — and when I wake up, I feel like it happened all over again. I can still feel all the pain — the fear — I can still hear him taunting me, feel him inside me —"

"It's all over, Don," Leo said quietly,

"I just — wanted to stop feeling filthy," Don murmured, gesturing at the brush. "It makes my skin crawl, feeling like he's still there — and I can't clean him off…"

Raph's arms closed around him again, slowly lifting him from the wet stone floor and back to his feet. Don expected a wave of panic to swell inside him again at the unexpected touch… but there was nothing. Nothing but the painfully deep tiredness seeping into every muscle, bone and vein in his body, as if he had expelled something poisonous that left him empty and spent. He slumped forward, and felt Leo putting his arms around him, holding him upright. Something warm and fluffy passed over his arms and shoulders before moving down his legs, and he became aware that Mikey was toweling his wet body.

"We're going to get you through this, Don," Leo said, putting his arm around Don's shoulders and guiding him across the wet floor, where puddles of water lay like tiny glimmering lakes. "You're going to be okay."

"I felt — so weak when it happened," Don said, clinging to his brother. "Like such a failure — "

"Don't you say that," Raph said fiercely, coming around Don's other side, with Mikey behind him.

"Yeah, it could've happened to any one of us," Mikey chimed in. "Even Raph." He ducked as Raph's arm swung around to smack him in the head.

"You're not weak, Don," Leo said gently, leaning his head down beside Don's. "You're the same strong Turtle I've known all my life — stronger than you know. And it's not weak to need some help. All of us — we'll help you until you don't need it anymore. Okay?"

Don closed his eyes, letting his brothers guide him up the ladder that led from one level to the next. Their hands felt wonderfully familiar and strong, pulling and pushing him until he was back in his bedroom. Raph took Leo's place then, guiding Don to the ladder that led to his bed. He climbed up it sleepily, with Raph remaining below him, watchfully making sure that he didn't need any help.

"Do you think you can sleep?" Leo said softly.

"Yes," Don said. He felt as though his brothers had lanced a terrible infection, letting all the poison drip out of him.

A thought occurred to him. "I left a mess in the bathroom…"

"Don't worry about it," Raph said. "Mikey'll mop it up."

"Hey!" Mikey squawked.

"There's a mop next to the washin' machine," Raph said with a grin. "I can't do it, 'cause I'm stayin' with Donnie tonight."

Leo ushered the grumbling Mikey out, promising to help him with the mopping. He paused only briefly to look back at the figure climbing into the loft bed. As Don slipped back under his sheets, Raph sprawled out on the futon couch below him, his arms crooked behind his head and his legs curled up. "I'll be here if you need anythin'," he said, suddenly serious. "You just yell if you need me, okay? And if you start havin' a nightmare, I'll stop it."

"Okay," Don said drowsily, settling back against his pillow.

For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel dread at the thought of falling asleep. He hadn't recovered from the rape, but for the first time he felt as though it might happen — as though the pain of what he had experienced could be driven away. Someday.


	40. New Discoveries

Dark clouds were gathering in the skies of New York. Occasionally they flickered with lightning or rumbled with thunder, but the storm had yet to really break. 

It was an ominous morning, and April had the feeling that there wasn’t going to be much business at her antique shop. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest, wondering if she should even bother opening the place.

It had taken her almost two weeks to reopen her antique store, long after she had gotten the broken windows and doors replaced. At first, April had told herself that she needed time to restock — the Purple Dragons had smashed or torn apart a number of things in her shop, and she needed to replace them. In fact, she had gone to a number of estate sales, and come away with some impressive deals. Anyone who saw her shop now would never think she had lost her stock at all — dishes, some jewelry, furniture and some very nice 19th-century folk art were all on display.

But deep down, she knew the real reason had been that she needed time to recover from the kidnapping, and everything that had happened to her and Don. It had been almost a month and a half since the kidnapping, but her heart still jumped into her throat at unexpected noises and shadows. 

But she was doing better than Don was. She visited the Turtles almost every day, making sure that Don was all right — that he was coming out of his room, that he was eating, that he felt her support. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel abandoned by her, especially now that she knew how he felt. 

And as she sat beside him, helping him with their joint experiments and making emergency repairs on the TV remote, she couldn’t help but remember that he still felt love for her. It was nothing he said or did — he acted as he always had with her — but she felt it radiating from him, so clearly that she was amazed that she had never noticed his love before. He was so earnest, so quietly devoted, that it seemed obvious now.

He seemed so fragile still, so worn and pained by what had happened to him. But April could feel that he was trying desperately to fight his way through his depression and his fears, and she would do anything she could to help him. 

And that knowledge had been following her into her dreams. On several mornings, she had woken from dreams that she was back in Don’s room — only this time, there was no more worry about age or trauma, no one forcing them together, no one waiting anxiously for them below. There was only Don on that futon, smiling and shining-eyed, welcoming her with his body…

A shiver ran through her at the memory. “Get a grip, April,” she muttered to herself. 

But the memories of Don followed her into the shower, where she scrubbed herself furiously in an effort to distract herself from thoughts of the Turtle’s hands and mouth on her body. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her — he was still in a fragile state, needing support from her and his family, not romantic attention. She shouldn’t be fantasizing about him when he was still so traumatized.

She stepped out of the shower just as her cell phone rang, and hurriedly wrapped her dripping body in a towel as she ran to answer it. Her heart jumped as she recognized Leo’s number on the tiny screen. “Hello?” she said breathlessly. “Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Leo said, sounding worried. “I wanted to tell you that… Don finally told us what happened last night.”

April sank onto a chair. “Oh… what happened?”

“He had another dream about the — the rape. We found him scrubbing himself in the shower. He was almost in a trance,” Leo said hesitantly. “He blurted out everything that happened during his captivity, everything that they did to him.”

April felt something churn in her stomach. That meant—

“Including what happened between you and him.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone, and for a moment she thought it might slip out of her hand completely. “Oh.”

Leo’s voice was full of aching compassion. “April, why didn’t you tell us what they did to you?”

She huddled forward, the towel sliding down her breasts and threatening to fall to the floor. Damp strings of red hair fell over her eyes and clung to her cheeks. “Because I — I didn’t want to you what had happened to him unless he wanted you to.”

“It happened to you too, April. You were as much a victim as Don was.”

April shook her head, feeling droplets of water streaming down her face from her wet hair. “I should have found another way, Leo,” she said thickly, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Don — I feel like I forced him into it, because someone threatened us…”

“Racer made you do it,” Leo said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault, April. Don doesn’t blame you.”

She huddled forward, running her free hand over her arm. Goosebumps were rising on her bare skin as the water evaporated, and her damp towel wasn’t keeping the cool air at bay. “Leo… I’m going to come over as soon as I get dressed. Can we talk about this then?” she said quietly, standing up and pulling the towel over her wet hair.

“If you want, April.” 

She shivered as she headed back into the bathroom, and began unfolding the clothes she had brought in. One of her socks fell down beside the sink, and she dipped her hand down to pick it up. But her fingers found a small, familiar box of thin cardboard that rattled as she picked it up. She felt a brief flash of surprise as she saw that it was a box of her tampons, which had fallen off the sink and been hidden behind the trash. Somehow she hadn’t noticed it there since the last time…

… the last time she had used them.

A chill ran through her as she tried to remember when that had been. The last time she had menstruated, it had been been a few weeks before she and Don had been kidnapped. She remembered because Mikey had wanted her to play volleyball with the Turtles and Casey, but she hadn’t felt well enough. She should have menstruated again a couple weeks after her abduction… but she hadn’t. It simply hadn’t happened.

Her hands began to shake as she realized that in aftermath of her kidnapping and captivity — and her desperation to help Don — she hadn’t noticed that her period was late. Very late. In fact, a second one should have started two days ago.

Wait. It was possible that it was just stress that had kept her from menstruating. She had been under enough stress that her body could simply be off-kilter, and everything would go back to normal when she was more relaxed. That was an entirely valid possibility, wasn’t it?

It simply wasn’t possible… was it?

She dressed herself in a daze, raced through her store and burst out into the street. There was a drugstore a few blocks away that she sometimes went to for cold medicine and band-aids, but this time she was going there for something else. Her hands were shaking as she dropped six or seven pregnancy tests of different brands onto the cashier’s counter, and began counting out money.

“I think you only need one of those,” the pimply-faced cashier said with a smirk.

“Just ring me up,” April snapped.

Her heart hammered in her ears like a drum as she made her way back home, her tests in a plastic bag hanging from her arm. She glanced up at the sky as fat raindrops began to spatter the street, and began running as her shop came into view. More rain began to fall in sheets and heavier drops. Lightning flashed as she fumbled for her keys, and wrenched the door open as the answering crash of thunder almost rattled her windows. 

She was gasping for breath as she ran up the stairs into her apartment, clutching the bag to her chest. Frantically she tore the first of the tests out of its box, and stepped into the bathroom. 

An hour later, April was sitting silently on the floor of her bathroom, with six used tests arrayed around her like a strange constellation. Her eyes slowly moved from one to the next, taking in the results that had appeared on each one. They all showed the same results. There wasn’t even a feeble hope that they were wrong.

Nausea rose inside her as her stomach twisted. She curled her legs up against her torso, clutching her knees to her chest and digging her toes into the tile floor. She looked like a lost child waiting for her mother to find her and take her home, but she knew no one was there to help her with this. 

“No,” she moaned faintly, pressing her face against her knees, and rocking back against the wall.


	41. Pregnant

"I'm pregnant."

April's announcement had the effect of a massive stone thrown into the middle of a calm pool. Her voice cut through every other sound in the lair, and silence followed.

From where she was standing, she could see the reaction of every other person in the lair. Master Splinter had been peacefully watching a soap opera, but April's announcement caused him to slowly turn toward her, his usually-serene demeanor disrupted. Leo had been sitting beside his father with a book in his lap, Mikey had been playing with Klunk, and Raph had been lifting hand weights. All of them immediately paused in what they were doing, looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. Even Mikey was completely speechless.

Last of all, April turned to look at Don. He was in his lab, a soldering iron clutched in his hand and a pair of goggles on his face. Slowly he set down the tool and removed the goggles, looking at her with wide, intent eyes, surprise and some sadness on his face. If he suspected the truth about her pregnancy, he gave no sign of it.

Surprisingly, Raph was the first to regain his voice. He dropped the hand weights with a loud clatter. "So I guess I should send Casey some cigars or somethin'," he said gruffly.

"Casey's not the father," April said faintly.

She had thought Raph's eyes were already as wide as they could go, but he immediately proved her wrong. For a moment, he stared at her blankly, not making a sound. Then his hands clenched into fists, and his brow twisted with a burst of growling anger.

Belatedly April realized how this must look to him — like she had cheated on Casey during their time together, and she was pregnant as a result. She held up her hands quickly.

"It — it isn't like that, Raph. It isn't what you're thinking. It — it happened after Casey and I broke up," she said. She looked down at her stomach, which was bare under a crop-top. "Casey and I… never got that far in our relationship," she said faintly. "I haven't been with a man, intimately speaking, since before I met you guys."

"What the shell does that mean?" Raph said disbelievingly. "How's that even possible?"

Leo vaulted over the couch, and sat down beside her. Much to her relief, his face was kind, if confused. "April… I admit I don't have a lot of experience in this kind of thing. But as I understand it, a man has to be involved somehow in the… um, conception."

April slumped forward in her chair, resting her face in her hands. She didn't know how to tell him that, technically speaking, the one who had impregnated her wasn't a man. She didn't know how she was going to tell the Turtles what had happened — she barely believed it herself. By all rights, it shouldn't have happened… yet those treacherous pregnancy tests had told her otherwise.

Leo touched her gently on the back, sensing her distress, and she felt a rush of gratitude for his friendship. She slowly raised her head to look at where Don was sitting, still and silent, his eyes fixed on her. He didn't look like he had the slightest idea what she was really talking about. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to keep silent about what had happened. He was already struggling to come back from a traumatic rape — the last thing he needed was the news of a pregnancy, the result of intercourse he hadn't even consented to.

"Are you sure you're pregnant?" Raph said. "I mean, maybe you made a mistake or somethin'…"

"I used six pregnancy tests," April said quietly. "They all came back positive. I'm pregnant." Her hand slid down to her still-flat belly, and she could feel the Turtles all watching the gesture.

Master Splinter rose from the couch and came toward her, his furry face composed in a sympathetic expression. April desperately needed his presence right now — his wisdom, his kindness, his quiet support.

"I promise you will suffer no judgment from us, April," the mutant rat said. "This child, who is its father?"

She took a deep breath, and said quietly, "It's Don."

Silence fell over the room again, like the quiet that falls after a thunderclap. Master Splinter's eyes widened; he had clearly not been expecting that answer. April raised her eyes to Leo and Mikey, who had both turned towards their purple-masked brother with expressions of disbelieving amazement. Raph seemed to have short-circuited, and was now staring blankly into space, as if the idea of April being pregnant with Don's child was more than he could absorb. April couldn't blame him — she could barely believe it herself.

Then a wrench fell from Don's shaking hand and clattered to the floor.

"That's — impossible," he said haltingly.

"Don," Leo said quickly. "You said that you were intimate with April a month and a half ago. Couldn't it have—"

"It's impossible," Don repeated, coming out of his lab. His eyes were wide and panicked, and a tremor passed through his body as he approached April. "We're not capable of procreating with a human being. We're Turtles — a different species — and we're mutants too, which changed us on the genetic level so we aren't even theoretically reproductively compatible with anyone or anything except other mutant turtles. We're effectively sterile…"

He seemed almost to be pleading with her, holding out his hands desperately. "I—I couldn't have, April. I'm Reptilia. You're Mammalia. We're not even the same class, let alone the same species. And I'm — I'm a mutant. There's — there's no way I could have possibly…"

"I know, Don," April said faintly, feeling tears pricking her eyes. "I know what you're saying. I don't know how it happened either. But I haven't been with anyone except you for the past few years, and… it happened a month and a half ago. There's no one else it can be."

Donatello stared at her for a moment, his eyes hollow and painfully desperate. For a moment, he seemed to be trying to take in what she was saying, as if he could force himself to accept something that couldn't have possibly happened. She could see the struggle in his eyes as he looked at her, between what he was being told and what he knew about himself. Then he shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, as if he were holding his own body together in the face of this news. He looked as though he was going to collapse in a heap on the floor if nobody intercepted him quickly.

"Donatello," Splinter said quickly. "Come with me."

"Master, I—" Don said faintly.

"Come quickly — Raphael, help your brother," the mutant rat said, taking his son's hand and pulling him. Raph appeared behind Don and pushed at his shell, directing him towards Splinter's room. He gave April a strange look as he guided Don forward, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then he turned away and shut the sliding door behind them.

April slumped back in her chair, pressing her hands to her face again. She wanted to cry more than anything else — the tension and upheaval of the last twelve hours was swamping her like a tidal wave. Her nerves had been unbalanced ever since she had been rescued from the Purple Dragons, but now they felt as though they were unraveling completely.

She knew how Donatello felt, to a degree — she had believed that being different species meant that she and he couldn't possibly conceive a child. No, she hadn't even thought that much about it, because it wasn't possible. It wasn't. It shouldn't be. They were so different, biologically. Even though the mutagen had made him very like a human, with bone structure, proportions, limbs and musculature more appropriate for a hominid than a reptile, he was still visibly a turtle.

Suddenly April felt arms around her, holding her gently against a firm plastron. "It's going to be okay, April," Leo said quietly.

April snuffled softly, and clung to her friend, wishing that it was Don holding her right now, but grateful that Leo was thinking of her. She could feel a three-fingered hand patting her back sympathetically, just before Mikey said, "Yeah, Donnie'll come around after Master Splinter talks to him. He's just a little confused right now."

"We're going to look after you, April," Leo said, drawing back and looking steadily into her eyes. "All of us. You and the baby both. We'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

April nodded numbly, then crumpled forward against Leo's shoulder again, feeling Mikey continue to pat her on the back. Somehow, Leo's assurances made her feel as if everything might turn out all right — and that was something she desperately needed at the moment.


	42. Donnie Loses His Cool

As the shoji door slammed shut behind him, Don could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, his breath coming in wild quick gasps. Black spots were swimming in his vision, and he started to wonder if he was going to pass out from what he had just heard.

It couldn't be. He couldn't have impregnated April. He had always known that — barring the mutation of some compatible female turtles — he and his brothers would never have offspring of their own. And that was assuming that they weren't made sterile by the physical and genetic changes brought about by their unintended mutations, which he had always believed was almost certain. But now — now he was being told he had fathered a child — with April —

"Donnie, Donnie — get it together," Raph said, gripping his arms and giving him a sharp shake.

Don took a long gasping breath and clutched at his brother, as if Raph was a sturdy rock in rapids that threatened to sweep him away. Raph seemed to sense this, and let Don hang on to him as the purple-masked Turtle struggled to regain his composure. As he closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally, he felt a furry hand gently stroking his head.

"My son… my poor son," Master Splinter said quietly.

Don let his head droop towards his father, and was rewarded with the feeling of Splinter's arms wrapping around him. He could feel his nerves beginning to calm, as they had when he was very young and frightened by something, and Splinter had taken him aside to comfort him. But he still felt like he was unraveling, as though he was going to come apart if any more pressure was put on him.

"It's too much," Don whispered, shaking his head. "It's just too much…"

"What the shell's wrong with him?" Raph asked, crouching down beside him.

"He is overwhelmed," Splinter said grimly. "The lingering trauma of what he has suffered, and now the news of April's pregnancy, have been too much for him." He tightened his arms around Don's shoulders, and said quietly, "Listen to my voice, Donatello. You must breathe deeply, and find your center. Bring calm to your spirit…"

Don took a deep, shuddering breath, ducking his head down as he tried to stop his trembling. His father's low, soft voice seemed to soothe him, and after a few minutes he was able to pull away and kneel on his own, still breathing hard as if he had been running a marathon. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, trying desperately to find the center of his soul amidst all the uncertainty churning through him.

"You okay now, Donnie?" Raph said.

"April," Don said faintly. "I need to see April — I need to tell her —" He began to rise from the floor.

"Hold on there," Raph said, placing a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. "If you go chargin' out like this, you'll just end up flippin' your shell again and we'll have to calm you down all over again." The red-masked Turtle slid down to the floor and crossed his legs, a stern look in his eyes.

Don stared at him hollowly. "I—I guess you're right," he said faintly.

"He is right," Splinter said firmly. "First we must calm you, Donatello, and learn why it is that this news has upset you so."

Don pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling as if his brain was boiling. "Because — because it's not possible that I — that I —"

Raph made an exasperated noise. "Look, Donnie, you told us all years ago that our mutations probably made us sterile, right?"

"That — that seemed to be the most likely scenario," Don said faintly. "And it didn't matter because there weren't any female mutant turtles."

"'Cause two different species can't make babies, right?"

Don swallowed hard. "Well, a few similar species can interbreed, like donkeys and horses, but we're so different from humans that it would never — it should never work."

"Except apparently it did," Raphael said bluntly. "Or are you sayin' April's a liar?"

"No, I never — I know she would never —" Don stammered, feeling as if Raph had punched him in the gut.

"You once told me, Donatello," Splinter said quietly, placing a hand on Donatello's arm, "that a hypothesis can only be proven by experimentation. And if the experiments prove the hypothesis wrong, then a new hypothesis must be made." He glanced at the sliding door. "It seems that your theories were wrong, my son. Perhaps it is time for you to consider what has made it possible for April to conceive your child, rather than attempting to deny that what has happened is possible. For if it were truly impossible, it would not have happened."

His words sounded very quiet in the small stone room, but Don felt them echoing in his bones like the ringing of a church bell. His fingers dug into his knees as he struggled with what his father had told him — all the more so, since he knew he was right.

Splinter slowly turned Don to face him, sadness creeping into his eyes. "I understand that you are frightened, my son, and you are confused. The wounds to your spirit have not had enough time to heal before this new challenge was placed before you. But you must remember that you are not alone, and we will never abandon you, Donatello." He smiled, with a tinge of sorrow. "I only wish your child had been conceived in joy rather than in pain."

"I need to see April," Don whispered. "I need to talk to her. I need to let her know that—"

"There will be time for that later," Splinter said firmly. "First, you must find peace within yourself. Stay in this room and meditate for a time, until you feel strong enough. I will speak to April first."

"I'll stay with him," Raph said gruffly.

Normally Don would have felt some annoyance at someone volunteering to babysit him. But right now, he felt grateful that Raph was there, just standing by him. His brother had been watching over him anxiously ever since his rescue — worrying about him, watching over him as he slept, trying to restrain him in the shower — and in some indefinable way he felt better when Raph was there.

Splinter rose to his feet, and gently patted Don's shoulder. "We will find a way through this, my son. As a family," he said softly.

Don watched as his father left the room, and caught a brief snatch of Leo's voice coming from outside before the door slid shut. He sighed, and leaned back against one of the stone pillars, pulling his legs into the lotus position and draping his hands loosely on his thighs. Then he closed his eyes, seeking quiescence and peace within his own soul.

But peace eluded him. He kept seeing April's face in front of him, though his eyes were tightly shut. He remembered her face while she had been holding him in the cell. He had trembled inside her, feeling both a heated, wild pleasure and an aching sadness that it hadn't been because she loved him or wanted him. Her eyes had been full of pain as she tried to comfort him… and now that he thought about it, that was probably the moment when he had impregnated her…

Then her face changed to how it had looked after their rescue, stained with tears and exhausted, clinging to him as she finally gave in. He had felt both physical and emotional pain, but there had also been a sense of relief — relief that she was safe with Casey and his brothers, and that the Purple Dragons would never touch her again.

And finally, her face again when she had announced she was pregnant. At first, he had thought she was saying that she had been pregnant with Casey's child when they were kidnapped. It had gone right to his heart like a shard of glass, but he had kept his composure. He hadn't seen the dread in her eyes at first — he had been too surprised by her announcement, even before she had said it was his child.

His child. Their child.

Don groaned, and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. He needed to see April. He needed to look into her eyes and see that she was all right. He wasn't going to have any peace of mind until he did.

"You okay, Donnie?" Raph asked.

Don sighed. "I will be." He reached for the door.


	43. Plans For The Future

"It might be a good idea for you to move down here for the time being, April," Leo said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What?" April said.

He knelt to face her, his face solemn. Since she was sitting down, April found herself looking straight into his eyes, and felt uneasy at what she saw there. "I know you really value having your own space — and it was kind of irritating for you when you stayed with us last time," he said. "But it might be safer for you to live in the lair, at least until the baby is born."

"Safer?" April said, her brow crinkling.

"The Foot Clan knows about you, April. Shredder knows that you're our friend," Leo said ominously. "If they see that you're pregnant, and there's no sign of a human father… they might figure out that one of us is responsible. And if he found out, the Shredder wouldn't hesitate to use you and the baby against us."

April's eyes widened, and her hands automatically pressed to her stomach. Panic bloomed inside her at the thought of what Leo was saying. She had seen personally what the Shredder would do to people associated with the Turtles — her shop had been blown up and burned down in the past because of him. He would unflinchingly use an innocent child if it allowed him to kill the Turtles — assuming he didn't hand the baby over to a Foot genetics lab to be dissected. She couldn't let that happen.

"There are other dangers as well," Master Splinter said, stepping out of his room and shutting the door firmly behind him. April looked for any sign of Don, but saw nothing before the door slid closed. "Like Agent Bishop."

Leo's face became grim, and April felt her stomach clench. Bishop was a monster — a psychopath who had nearly dissected the Turtles, and would have succeeded if she, Casey and Splinter hadn't come to rescue them. His goal was to create an army of super-soldiers to fight against aliens, and he thought the Turtles' mutations could help him in his quest. If he learned that the Turtles were genetically compatible with humans, he would do anything to get ahold of her baby.

No, it might be even worse than that. If he learned of her baby's existence, he might also try to recapture the Turtles in order to breed more mutant infants from them — mutants who were partly human, and who could be more useful in his research. She couldn't let that happen to them. Just the thought of them in his grasp…

"Do you think he's watching April too?" Leo asked Splinter, breaking through her thoughts.

"I do not know, but it would not surprise me," Splinter said grimly. "And there is one other who may have an interest in April's child. I believe his name is Sarkis."

A chill went through April, bringing back the memory of a cruel face looming over her and Don in the cell. "You know? Did Don tell you?" she asked.

"He did, the evening after your rescue. He did not tell me everything that transpired during his captivity, but he said that the Dragons had captured you on the orders of a sorcerer named Sarkis, who was searching for a mutant turtle who was a child." Splinter's shaggy brows drew together. "I previously believed that he was simply in error, since my sons are the only four mutant turtles. But now—"

"You think he meant my baby," April said, dread creeping through her.

"We must learn more of this man," Splinter said, gripping his walking stick. "I will make inquiries with some who may know of this Sarkis, or may be in a position to learn more. But for the time being, Miss O'Neil, it would be best if you remained close to the lair as much as possible. It is not safe for you to be alone."

"I'll start packing as soon as I can," April said quietly. She cast a glance at Splinter's room. "How… how is Donnie? Is he all right?"

"He is having difficulty accepting this new development," Splinter said, looking somewhat downcast. "I have left him to meditate for a time."

"I can't blame him for having trouble with it," April said, closing her eyes. "He was right. It really should be impossible."

"Or perhaps, it is a miracle, Miss O'Neil," Splinter said softly. He placed his hand on her belly, as if bestowing a blessing on what was inside it.

April opened her eyes again, looking down at his hand. For a moment she imagined her baby as it looked now — barely formed, a tiny fluttering life floating in her womb. As it grew larger and more defined, what would it become? What would the offspring of a human and a mutant turtle look like? She had no idea, and knew that no one else did either.

"When can I see him?" she said quietly.

"When he has grown calm again," Splinter said. "I think you will have much to discuss when he emerges. In the meantime, we must begin preparations for April's time with us." He cast a significant look at Leo, who nodded slightly. April wasn't sure what that exchange meant.

Splinter was about to answer when the shoji door slid open, and a rather ragged-looking Donatello emerged, with Raphael standing behind him, clutching his elbow and guiding him out. Don's eyes met hers, and she saw a whirlwind of emotions behind his eyes — as if he had hundreds of things to say to her, but none of them were making it to his mouth. His arms bent slightly and his hands clenched, as if he wanted to reach out to her — and she felt herself respond, wanting to reach out to him — wanting him safe in her arms, comforting him —

Splinter placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke quietly to all four of his sons. "Miss O'Neil will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, both for her own safety and for the safety of her child," he said. "We should begin preparations as soon as possible."

"I can't — I mean, it wouldn't be right of me to kick one of the guys out of his bedroom for however many months I'm here," April said.

"I agree," Mikey announced.

April couldn't blame Mikey for feeling that way — he had lent his room to her for some weeks the previous year, and hadn't been particularly happy about it. But before she could speak up, Raph smacked Mikey's head from behind, an irritable scowl on his face. Mikey yelped and rubbed his head.

"Don't worry, April," Leo said warmly. "We've figured something out that should work for all of us." He swung around to face his brothers, suddenly all business. "Mikey and Don, we need you guys to start clearing out the storage room. It doesn't matter where you put the stuff in there, as long as it's somewhere else. Raph and I will help April pack everything she'll need in the Battle Shell, and bring it back here."

April started to protest that she could do the packing herself — she mainly needed her clothes and toiletries, and those wouldn't take long for her to pack. Besides, she could make trips back to the apartment if she needed to. But a chill ran through her as she remembered what Splinter and Leo had said about the Foot and the E.P.F. watching her. Suddenly it seemed a lot wiser to bring two trained ninjas along.

"I'll be up at the Battle Shell in a minute," she said quietly.

"We'll be waiting," Leo said, as he and Raph stepped into the elevator that led to the surface. The aqua doors closed in front of them, and they were gone.

"Come on, Don," Mikey said, seizing his brother by the shoulders and directing him toward the far end of the lair. "We have a storage room to clean up. And I'll give you all the juicy details while we work."

Don stumbled a little, then leaned back against Mikey's grip. "What are you talking about?" he said, seemingly thrown off by Mikey suddenly pushing him around.

"I'm talking about the latest Justice Force comic book. You wouldn't believe the plot twist at the end—"

Before they leaped up onto the second level, Don glanced back at April, and once again she was left with the feeling that he desperately wanted to speak to her, but couldn't find the words. His dark eyes were overflowing with it. For a moment, she thought he was going to reach out to her, or say something about what had happened to them. But with a sigh, he turned away and leaped up onto the second level, with Mikey just a step behind him.

Disappointment threaded through April. She looked up the place where he had been standing for a moment earlier, running her hands over her arms. Was he upset that she was pregnant, that he was going to become a father? She couldn't blame him if he was — the baby had been conceived in the midst of pain, humiliation and rape, and both of them had been forced into intercourse. It might be a living reminder to Don of something he was trying hard, so very hard, to move past.

And he might not want a baby even if it hadn't been conceived in that cell. April had never talked to him about the subject of children, since Don had been convinced that he couldn't have them. But he was only seventeen, after all — not at an age where he should be thinking about having them. And he had no experience with babies. Perhaps he didn't like them.

"Does Donatello's silence bother you?" Splinter's soft voice said.

April was jolted out of her thoughts. "I — sorry, Master Splinter. I was just thinking that — I don't know if Don wants the baby." Her shoulders hunched slightly.

Splinter frowned. "Do you have a reason to believe he will not?" he asked.

April shook her head.

The mutant rat sighed, and lifted April's chin so that she was looking in his eyes. "One thing you must always realize, April, is that you will never be alone in this. The child you carry is Donatello's, meaning that you have joined our family in a more tangible way than ever before. He, his brothers and I will all support and care for you both in every way we can — and I promise you, you and your child will never lack for love as long as our family is here."

April felt tears welling up in her eyes. With an inarticulate moan, she collapsed forward onto Splinter's shoulder, and felt his thin arms clasping around her.

"My child, my child," he murmured, stroking her back. "There is no need to be afraid."

"But — Don —"

"Donatello has suffered great pain and great loss of late," Splinter said quietly. "The wounds of his spirit are not easily healed, and he has been frightened by news that he cannot understand. But he loves you deeply, and I think that when he has grown calm once again, he will return to you and demonstrate that love." He smiled softly. "And I think that he will want your child as much as you do."

April felt sobs rising in her chest, and her fingers dug into Splinter's shabby robe. "I do," she whispered brokenly. "I do want it. I just — I'm afraid that when Don sees it, thinks about it, all he'll be able to remember is how it was conceived."

"He loves you," Splinter repeated. "His love has not wavered because of the violation you both shared. Trust in him, Miss O'Neil. His spirit is strong."


	44. Packing Up

In less than six hours, April’s life had changed completely. She had discovered that she was pregnant, and now two of the Turtles were helping her pack whatever belongings she would need for the foreseeable future. They went through her apartment like a pair of whirlwinds, but she had to admit that they were efficient.

“Why do humans need so many clothes?” Raph said, stuffing another pair of pants into a duffel bag. 

“What do you mean?” April said.

“I get that humans wear clothes, even though they get in the way of movin’ around. But why do you need twenty shirts? Why don’t you have a couple and just wash ‘em every few days? And shoes — why do you need more’n one pair of shoes?”

April couldn’t exactly debate Raphael on that, especially since he only rarely wore clothes, and only for the purposes of disguise. So she kept rolling her clothes into little bundles and carefully sticking them in a suitcase. She couldn’t help but wonder how Raph managed to fit so many items in that bag when he didn’t fold or roll any of them, instead simply cramming them in haphazardly.

Leo was in the bathroom, piling things into a cardboard box — shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush and toothpaste, medications, facial creams and masks, and just about every other thing that April kept in there. The thought made April touch her stomach. She would need to buy some prenatal vitamins soon, and start watching what she ate…

Pregnant. It still sounded surreal to her ears. 

She had always assumed she would have children, someday, after dating and marrying a man and settling down together. When she had imagined her future, that was what it involved. So the current situation left her feeling dazed and a little sick.Not only was she unexpectedly pregnant, it was the result of what had effectively been a rape. The father was a traumatized seventeen-year-old boy who was in love with her, and whom she had to admit she found wildly attractive. April ran her fingers through her hair as she tried to reconcile herself to the turns her life had taken. 

The sound of a zipper brought her back to Earth, as Raphael closed up the duffel bag. “All we need now are socks ’n’ underwear,” he announced.

“I’ll handle those,” April said quickly, unwilling to have Raphael grabbing handfuls of her underwear.

Leo chose that moment to come out, with the box of toiletries rattling faintly despite his best efforts to keep it steady. He smiled encouragingly at April, and set the box down on the bed for her inspection. April quickly glanced over the contents, noting that he had nearly everything she needed for the foreseeable future. When she turned back at the bureau, she found Raph holding up a bra from his fingertips, a critical look on his face.

“How do you even put these things on?” he asked dubiously.

When the suitcase was finally full of the last of her clothing, April breathed a sigh of relief. She grasped the handle with both hands and heaved it off her bed, moving towards the living room and her stairs. Her arms burned with the effort, but she knew it was only a short distance to the Battle Shell, and most of it was downhill.

Then a large green hand seized the handle. “Hey there, you shouldn’t be liftin’ heavy things,” Raph interjected.

“I think that’s for later in the pregnancy,” April said.

“I’m not takin’ any risks. You ain’t lifting heavy stuff,” Raph announced, hefting the suitcase as if it didn’t weigh much at all, and heading for the staircase. That was the benefit of lifting so many weights, April thought. He barely seemed to notice the heavy stuff.

Leo came up behind her, slinging the duffel bag of pants and shirts over his shoulder. “Is there anything else you need from here, April?” he asked.

April hesitated for a moment, then began collecting small items from her room. She had lost many personal items in the fiery explosion that had consumed her first shop and apartment, but there were still some personal items that she cherished — the picture of her family most of all. As she looked at the framed picture, she felt a sudden swell of sadness. It felt wrong for her not to be telling Robyn that she was pregnant, but she couldn’t explain to her sister whom she was pregnant by. A seventeen-year-old giant talking turtle, who also happened to be a ninja? Robyn would think she had lost her mind. 

She rubbed her stomach absently as she wondered how far the secrecy would need to go. She couldn’t really have an obstetrician without them potentially figuring out that there was something odd about her pregnancy. Ultrasounds were probably completely out of the question. And when her baby was born, who could help her with it to make sure nothing went wrong? She couldn’t risk delivering in a hospital if the doctors might see that her child was… different. 

She bit her lip, imagining spending her pregnancy down in a sewer, with the only medical care what Don was able to give her. As for giving birth… well, being attended to only by four teenagers who had no experience with babies, pregnancy or birth was not something she was comfortable with. Even Splinter, as knowledgeable as he was, probably knew nothing about it. 

“Are you okay, April?” Leo asked.

April glanced down at the picture again, and ran her thumb over the faces of her parents. “I’m fine,” she said softly, before tucking it into the box.

“It really is going to be all right, April,” Leo said.

April sighed. “I — I hope so. Everything is just so — crazy right now.”

Leo looked down at the picture. “I’m sorry, April — sorry that this happened to you,” he said quietly. “Something like a pregnancy shouldn’t happen as a result of — of what happened to you and Don. I wish it were something happier for you.”

“Maybe it will be, when I’ve gotten used to it,” April said quietly, putting a jewelry box next to the picture. “I just wish I knew what Don was thinking about it.”

“Don’s still….” Leo searched for the word. “He’s still shaky. He’s been through a lot in just a matter of hours. Once he’s recovered a little…” His voice trailed off uncertainly, and his eyes turned away,.

On the trip home, April. let her mind sink into thoughts of her parents and Robyn, and how they would respond if they knew of her pregnancy. It sent a wrench through her heart as she realized that nobody except Casey, the Turtles and what few people knew of them would know of her baby’s existence. It would live a life like that of the Turtles — unknown to most, in the shadows. Her hand moved down to her stomach, and she began to wonder what kind of life she was giving this baby.

And… Casey. Her stomach flip-flopped as she realized that he didn’t know — didn’t know what had happened to her in the Purple Dragons’ hands, didn’t know about her complicated relationship with Donatello, and didn’t know she was pregnant. She hadn’t communicated much with him — or anyone aside from the Turtles and Splinter, really — in the last month, but she had seen him sometimes when she came to the lair. He would have to know what had happened. Maybe she could ask Raph to explain it to him…

The Battle Shell rolled back into the abandoned warehouse that the Turtles used as its garage, and the two Turtles carried the suitcase, bag and box into the ancient elevator that would let them back into their lair. April watched with growing discomfort as Raph lifted the giant suitcase, and Leo tucked the box and duffel bag under his arms.

“I wish you’d let me carry my own things,” she said as they entered the elevator.

“They ain’t that heavy,” Raph responded airily.

“Better safe than sorry,” Leo added as the doors opened once again.


	45. Brothers Together

The light bulb overhead flickered on.

Don breathed a sigh of relief as the room was suddenly filled with warm light, illuminating the stacks of boxes piled high against the stone walls. They were full of various things the Turtles had collected over the years — his abandoned projects, some of Mikey’s comic books, and items they had scavenged for their own use. There were even cans of food and bottles of water, which Leo had put there for emergencies.

But all of that was being cleared out. In its place was furniture the Turtles had gotten their hands on shortly after Leatherhead had moved out, just in case they had any future guests. Up against the right wall was a slightly shabby queen-sized bed, and a large, newly-repainted bureau was pushed against the opposite wall. Mikey had already put fresh sheets on the bed, as well as a worn woolen afghan and some pillows. It was starting to actually look like a bedroom.

“Awesome, Don,” Mikey said, slapping Don’s shell. “Once we get all these boxes out of here, April’s gonna feel right at home.”

“Yeah,” Don said, smiling faintly.

But he didn’t feel like smiling. He felt numb, dazed, his thoughts scattered and blurred by the confusion he felt. His hands had been shaking while he did the electrical work, and more than once he had had to pause until the tremors stopped. For the first time in a month and a half, his mind wasn’t dominated by memories of his rape — instead, all he could think about was April. 

He shut his eyes, and images swam behind his eyelids. Suddenly all he could see was April the way she had looked that morning, pressing her hands to her stomach, knowing of the tiny creature growing inside it. Then April months from now, her belly swollen with their child, a faint smile on her lips as she stroked it. And then April in pain — blood and sweat — her hand clutching wildly at his as she cried out —

Don flinched, and tried to push those thoughts out of his head. He didn’t know much about pregnancy or giving birth, but he knew enough to be worried about what would happen to April. Especially since they knew so little about the child she was carrying. Shell, they didn’t even know whether it would be more like a human or more like a Turtle. Or even if it would be all right. If it would be healthy —

Something tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Don, you done daydreamin’?” a gravelly voice said in his ear.

“Raph?” Don said, turning to face his brothers. For some reason, relief flooded through him at the sight of Leo and Raph. “Where’s April?”

“Downstairs havin’ some tea with Master Splinter,” Raph said. “We brought all her stuff from her apartment, so she can stay here as long as she needs to. At least until she has that baby.”

“You know,” Mikey said, leaning against a stack of boxes, “the fact that Donnie knocked—“

“Impregnated,” Leo said firmly. 

“Okay, he impregnated April,” Mikey said, shrugging. “It brings up some serious questions about the future.”

“It certainly does,” Leo said, a faraway look coming into his eyes. “Like—“

“Like, is April gonna lay an egg?” Mikey interjected.

Raph slapped his face and groaned loudly, while Leo simply blinked at their younger brother in astonishment. “Seriously, Mikey?” he asked.

“What?” Mikey said, crossing his arms. “Turtles hatch from eggs. Everyone knows that. So if April’s having a baby mutant Turtle—”

“No, Mikey,” Don said, holding up his hand. “April doesn’t have the biological ability to produce eggs like that. As far as we can tell, the baby is gestating more like a mammalian embryo would.”

“What does that mean?” Mikey said.

“It means the baby’s gonna be born like on TV,” Raph said sharply, gesturing widely. “You know, with the screaming and the pushing and—“

“Can we please change the subject?” Don said weakly, pressing a hand to his face.

Leo turned toward him, and his face softened. One of his hands came up and rested lightly on Don’s arm. “How are you doing, Donnie?” he said quietly. 

“I’m — fine,” Don said.

“Are you sure?” Leo asked, his eyes roaming over his brother’s face. “You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. First, what happened last night, telling us about — about the rape.” He paused. Don bowed his head slightly, as if the knowledge of what had happened was pressing on him, and Leo cautiously continued, “And then this morning, April told you she was pregnant. It’s understandable if you’re a little… stressed by what’s going on.”

“I’m okay,” Don said, but the waver in his voice betrayed him. “I think I just need a little rest.”

“Then take it,” Leo said gently. “We can handle clearing out this room ourselves.”

Don felt a burst of gratitude towards his brother. Leo had been unwaveringly supportive of him the night before, constantly assuring him that things would be all right. And he seemed to have taken over since the announcement of April’s pregnancy, making sure that April was cared for while Don’s brain was too scrambled to think properly. He reminded himself to thank Leo later for all he had done for them both.

A heavy hand landed on his shell. “It’s okay, bro,” Raph’s gruff voice said in his ear. “We’re all in this with you. Family. Whatever happens, you got us backin’ you up.”

Raph wasn’t particularly eloquent, but Don felt a sense of relief at his words. He smiled back shakily, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. He and his brothers had always done things as a team, as a unified force. A few things they did on their own, like Mikey’s Turtle Titan outings, but for something serious — for something that truly affected them — they worked together. Maybe this would be no different.

“You got that right,” Mikey chimed in, leaning on him. “We’ll be such good uncles you won’t have anything left to do. We’ll feed it, take it for walks… and… other things you do with babies.” He scratched his head. “I don’t know what exactly.”

“I think there’s a little more to taking care of them than that,” Don said. “But at least we have months to learn.”

Leo opened his mouth to speak further, but was interrupted by the sound of feet on the metal ladder outside. Don felt a prickle of mingled anxiety and anticipation. Master Splinter almost never left the first floor of the lair, which meant that had to be…

“Guys?” April called out. “Are you here?”

Leo stiffened, before casting a look over his shoulder. Then he looked at Raph, a faint gleam in his eyes. “Let’s go, guys,” he said quietly. “Raph, Mikey, we’ll get April’s luggage and bring it up here. Don… why don’t you show April her new room?”

“But it’s not finished yet,” Mikey protested.

Raph made an exasperated noise. “Allow me to explain to you on the way down,” he growled as he half-dragged Mikey out the door.

As his brothers vanished out into the lair, Don found himself standing alone in the half-emptied room, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He watched as a shadow stretched across the doorway, growing with every passing second. For a moment, he wondered if he should just let things be, and follow his brothers down to the living room… no, he couldn’t just chicken out when he needed to speak to April so desperately.

And then April was in the doorway, her green eyes wide and shining in the glaring light, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked so beautiful there, like an alabaster statue given life, that Don felt his heart throb almost painfully at the sight. His arms ached to reach out to her, to pull her close to him again, to kiss her the way he had back in his own room — the way they had before all this had happened. Those aching, beautiful moments when, for just a little while, everything seemed to make perfect sense.

“Don?” April said softly. 

He raised his eyes to her, and said the first thing that came to mind.


	46. Heart To Heart, In Bed

“I’m sorry, April.”

Her brow crinkled. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“Sorry that I — made you pregnant,” Don said, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.

Her face softened, and she stepped forward, touching her fingertips lightly to his cheeks. Don felt electricity dance over his skin as her hands gently curved against his features, pulling him closer as she moved toward him. “Don, it wasn’t your fault.”

“If I had known it was possible — I never would have tried —“

“Yes, you would have,” April said softly, resting her forehead against his. “You didn’t have a choice, remember? Racer made us do it — made me force you to do it. You don’t have any of the responsibility for what’s happened—“

Don shook his head. “You didn’t force me, April. I was willing.”

Her eyes were damp, and she was blinking hard at him. “Don, I saw your eyes when we — when we were together.” Her hands dropped and gripped his, her delicate fingers digging into his green skin. “You didn’t want what had happened. I forced you to—”

“You’re right that I didn’t want to do it — not like that,” Don said slowly, spinning out every word carefully. “But I saw you talking to Racer, and I saw your face when you came back to me. I knew that you weren’t mating with me out of your own free will, but because he threatened you somehow. So I — I was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep you safe.” One of his hands detached from hers, and was raised in a whisper-soft caress to her cheek. “I would have done anything if it kept them away from you. So I tried my hardest to — respond to you, even though I was paralyzed.”

“But when you — afterwards,” April said slowly, “you looked so sad, Don.”

“I was. I… wanted to love you, April. And I wanted you to love me back, even though I believed it would never happen.” His eyes grew darker and more distant, reliving the dark moments they had spent together in the cell. April’s hand raised and caught his fingers, letting them curl around hers. “What they made us do was like a sick parody of what I always wanted with you.”

April moved closer still, her breath catching as she slipped her arms around his neck, drawing him close until she could feel his warm, broad body pressed against her own. His voice seemed to vibrate through her as he said quietly, “So you didn’t force me, April. Racer did. Not you. None of it was your fault.”

“I didn’t know how you felt about me,” April said, pressing her cheek against the top of his head. “I thought you were upset because of what I had done to you. I couldn’t understand how you wanted me after that.”

“I was upset because I believed you would never want me, and that what we were forced to do was as close as I would ever come…” Don said.

He closed his eyes and leaned against her, waiting for the memory of what had happened to fade away again, but instead it grew stronger. He felt it overwhelming his senses — flashes of mocking voices, of April holding him in her arms, of his feelings of desperation and despair. He felt his body starting to shake, and against his will, tears began to trickle from his eyes. Desperately, he ran a hand over his face, trying to get rid of the tears before April noticed.

But she had already seen them, and he felt her hand on the back of his head. “Don,” she said softly, clutching him closer. “I’m so sorry — I wish I could erase what they did to you.”

“They did it to you, too,” he said in an unsteady voice, clutching at her for support. “That’s why — you’re pregnant —“

Her grip tightened on him, fiercely holding him close as she whispered inarticulate words of comfort, assuring him that he would be okay, and that he would recover from this. Her soft hair, which smelled faintly of honeysuckle, brushed against his face, and her warm breath washed over his face. Don held her tighter as well, trying to force the memory of fear and trauma from his mind. He couldn’t afford to be so fragile now, when even more was depending on him — not only April, but a new, vulnerable life. And the thought of that made his stomach twist…

“Hey, April!” a voice called out. “We got your clothes and stuff! Latest fashions for low low prices!”

Don stiffened, and instinctively let go of April as Mikey’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. His brother raced in with a bulging duffel bag in his arms, and dropped it on the bed with a loud thud. His broad smile faltered a little as he saw April, whose arms were still wrapped around Don’s shoulders and throat. “Hey, um… am I interrupting something?” he said.

“Just everything, moron,” Raph said, heaving the suitcase into the room. “April, what you got in this thing, rocks?”

April gently unwound herself from Don, and gave him a tremulous smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, her fingers stroking the sides of his face. “I promise.”

Don watched numbly as Raph deposited the suitcase on the bed, with a puff of dust and a loud creak of bedsprings. Then he slowly turned and moved out into the walkway outside, passing Leo on his way into April’s room. His mind was still quaking with the memory of his assault, mingled with the warmth and sweetness of April’s closeness to him. And then there was the thought of their child…

He needed some time to think. A lot of time to think. In his room.

 

April stared up at the curving stone ceiling over her, and tried to convince herself to go to sleep.

It wasn’t easy. She was grateful to the Turtles for finding the best bed and mattress they could, and lavishing her with blankets and pillows to make a nest of sorts in the now mostly-cleared room. And it was very reassuring, after weeks of gnawing fear, to know that she was as safe as she could be. They were in a secret location that none of their enemies knew of, and the Turtles were all nearby — if she called out for them, they would be awake and at her side in an instant.

She rolled onto her side and looked out the doorway. Faint, monotonous sounds filled the air — the growl of Raph’s loud snoring, the rush of water in old pipes. And though the lair was mostly dark, she could see the far-off glow of the TVs and Don’s computer equipment. Even when the Turtles were asleep, their home was full of life. Maybe that was why she couldn’t sleep.

Or, more likely, it was just that her entire life had been turned upside-down in less than twenty-four hours. She was pregnant with what seemed to be a mutant turtle baby, whose very existence put both of them in danger, and who would be the target of cruel, murderous people if they knew of its existence. Her relationship with Don had somehow become even more complicated. And she was now living in the Turtles’ lair again, where she would be hiding at least until her baby was born.

That, and she wasn’t used to the bed she was sleeping in. It was like being at a hotel — no matter how nice the bed, it didn’t yet feel like hers. It would probably take a few nights before she adjusted.

She lay in the room for a while, her hand absently stroking her stomach as she remembered the things Splinter had said to her. He saw her child as a miracle — a gift. He wasn’t blind to her confusion, and had been incredibly caring and compassionate, but he couldn’t hide that he was glad. And she thought she had seen some of that in Leo’s eyes as well. Mikey seemed pretty energetic about the whole deal, and Raph… she wasn’t sure how Raph felt about it. He hadn’t said anything either way. Though he had been very concerned about her lifting heavy things…

A whisper of sound caught her ear, causing her to look up. In the dim light of the doorway, a silhouette was standing. A Turtle. She couldn’t see his bandana color.

“Don?” she said softly.

He didn’t move.

“Is that you?” She raised her head from the pillow.

Without a word, the figure moved through the dark room, his bare feet almost silent on the stone floor. April found herself wondering if he was sleepwalking, or whether he was coming into her room for another reason.

She felt him rather than hearing him — a presence lurking in the darkness behind her back. Just as she was about to turn around to face him, she felt the mattress dip behind her as a weight settled on it, the bedsprings creaking softly. She felt the firmness of a plastron against her back, a gentle pressure that was oddly comforting, and warm breath against the back of her neck. A muscular arm draped itself along the side of her body, the three fingers gently resting against her stomach.

In the minutes that followed, April waited for him to do something else — touch her, or kiss her, or try to make love to her again. But he simply lay behind her, his arm around her, breathing softly and evenly, as if he didn’t want or need any more than to be near her. Near her, and near the baby.

She pressed her hand over his, and murmured, “Thank you.”

She didn’t know if he heard her, or whether he was already asleep. So instead she nestled back against him, feeling his face touching the back of her neck, and his legs curled up behind hers.

Something about having him beside her caused her to relax, and lulled her senses until she fell asleep, with the comforting feeling of his hand against hers. When she woke in the morning, still in the dark, she found that the space beside her was empty, as if no one had been there. She found herself wondering if anyone even had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikey, don't cockblock your brother!


	47. Answers To Don's Questions

Don was already in his lab when the others awoke and came down that morning, with the intent, focused look of a scientist grappling with a puzzle. As Leo went down for breakfast, he saw Don removing a length of rubber tubing from where it had been tied on his upper arm, and withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his inner elbow. A little later, he was seen swabbing his own mouth, and dropping the cotton-tipped stick into a beaker full of blue fluid.

Mikey brought him breakfast — a box of cereal and bowl of milk — and found him glued to his microscope, scowling down at a small petri dish as if it had offended him. “Did you even go to bed last night, Don?” he asked.

“Hmm? Yes, I did,” Don said, looking up. “But I wanted to get started on these tests.”

“Tests for what?”

“To find out how I could have impregnated April.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious how that happened,” Mikey said with a grin. “Master Splinter told us all about it a few years ago. When a Turtle and a human love each other very much…”

Don gave him a sour look, but accepted the cereal and milk. After quickly devouring his breakfast, he went back to studying samples under the microscope, wrapped up in his scientific inquiries.

April came down after the rest of them, sleepy-eyed and yawning, since she wasn’t used to waking in complete darkness. The first thing she saw was Don in his lab, which was usually her cue to join him in whatever he was doing. She wrapped her bathrobe more tightly around herself, and came over to glance at what he was studying — a length of paper scrawled with chemical markings and sketches of D.N.A.

Not wanting to disturb him, she slipped off into the kitchen, where his brothers were enthusiastically — and rather messily — eating their own breakfasts. Leo’s face brightened as soon as he saw her, and he quickly rose to his feet. “April,” he said, gesturing at the empty bench. “Can I get you something?”

“Hi, Leo. Maybe some toast. I’m feeling a little queasy this morning,” April said, sliding into the table.

Leo popped two slices of bread into the toaster, and brought the results back to April a few minutes later. She couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so solicitous of her — surely he didn’t think that pregnant women needed to be waited on hand and foot, especially in the early months when nothing was showing. Then again, she reflected, their entire knowledge of pregnancy probably came from a few TV shows, and nowhere else. They would need to study up on what was needed during a pregnancy.

She spent the rest of the morning watching Raph, Leo and Mikey going through their katas with Splinter, their loud grunts echoing through the lair. But her mind was on Don, feverishly working to uncover how a mutant turtle could have fathered a child. It seemed to almost be an obsession with him — a way to make sense of something that completely blindsided him and dashed his theories about his own body. Clearly he wasn’t going to have any peace until he figured it out.

Don only emerged from the lab halfway through the afternoon, loudly announcing, “I found it.” He spent the next ten minutes going from person to person, rousing them from whatever they were doing — practicing with swords, watching movies, having tea — and demanding that they come with him to hear what he had found.

He looked tired but triumphant when April, Splinter and his three brothers were all assembled in his lab, waiting expectantly for the answers. “I think I found how I impregnated April,” he said, gesturing at his microscope. “I’ve been testing different fluid samples from myself all afternoon, and found the same thing in most of them — infinitesimal amounts of the mutagen that made us what we are today.”

“Is that normal?” Leo asked.

“For us, it is. Our cells have absorbed the mutagen, and it can be found in our blood very easily. It was a little harder to nail down some of the other samples, but I suspect that our ejaculate, containing cells intended for one purpose, also contains trace amounts of mutagen.” Don held up a petri dish to the light. “So the mutagen acted as a catalyst, causing cellular bonding between my gametes and April’s. Normally sperm from a mutant turtle would never penetrate a human ovum, but the presence of the mutagen causes… unforeseen changes to happen. It took two things that were never meant to go together, and caused them to combine and grow.”

April put a hand on her stomach, wondering what those changes were. Her scientific expertise lay more in technical and computer areas than in biological sciences, but some of the things Don was saying were starting to make her feel nervous.

“So now that you know how the conception happened, doesn’t that mean everything’s fine?” Leo said, a hint of hope in his voice.

Don’s face twisted slightly, as if Leo had reminded him of something that caused him anguish. “Not by a long shot. I’ve only encountered mutagen as the catalyst for creatures that were already fully formed, and never more than one species. There’s no precedent for this, and… I have no idea what kind of results a mutagen-based conception might produce. There could be problems, like…”

“Like what?” Mikey asked.

Don looked at April, misery swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Like birth defects and deformities. Non-viability.”

Silence fell over the lair. April suddenly felt cold, and both of her hands came up to touch her stomach. She knew her baby was barely the size of a pea now, but she had a desperate desire to know what it looked like — to make sure it was okay, that somehow her “miracle” had been conceived without anything wrong with it.

And then even worse thoughts floated into her head — what if it didn’t survive? She was only a month and a half into her pregnancy; there was still plenty of time for an unworkable genetic structure to unravel what had been made, for that tiny life to blink out. And despite her anxiety the day before, April found that she desperately did not want that to happen. She wanted her baby whole and healthy, whatever kind of creature a human and a mutant turtle had produced.

“Let us not seek trouble,” Master Splinter said, moving closer to Don. “You told us that you had no idea what such a conception might involve, Donatello. That means you do not know if such problems will arise, or even if they are likely?”

Don’s shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this.”

“Then we should not seek out fear over things we cannot control,” the rat master said firmly. “You will only give yourself and others sorrow and grief, and it may be that the child will not suffer these problems. The mutagen is a powerful substance, and if it has the ability to turn four ordinary turtles into my strong and skilled sons, surely it has the ability to conceive a child without terrible consequences.”

Don looked into April’s eyes, and she could see that the turmoil in him was still there — he was still afraid of what might happen to their baby. She moved closer to him and gently put an arm around his shoulders, drawing him into a loose, brief hug that bumped his abdomen against her belly. One of his hands came up to lightly touch it, almost as if it frightened him.

“I have one more question,” Leo’s voice punched through the silence. “If I understand correctly, this means that… this could happen to any one of us.”

“With a female human partner, yes,” Don said raising his head. “I — when I previously tried to determine our fertility, I was basing it entirely on our genetic changes and our uniqueness. It never occurred to me to test for mutagen. And since the four of us are very similar physically, it means that the three of you also have ejaculate laced with mutagen. It means that… we’re fertile with humans.”

“That’s — something very important to know,” Leo said slowly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It’s information we need to have about ourselves. For the future.”

“And it’s all thanks to Donnie’s potent and fertile loins,” Mikey announced.

“Please, never talk about my loins again,” Don groaned.

“But dude, they’re the reason you’re in this situation. And they got April pregnant — they’re awesome!”

Raph smacked Mikey across the head, eliciting a pained yelp of “ow!”

“Well, with no idea of what’s ahead, and no way of affecting it,” Leo said at last, “we should probably get back to preparing for the baby. There’s a lot to think about, like medical care and various things that babies need, which we’ll need before it’s born.”

“I don’t think I can go to a regular doctor about the baby,” April said quietly. “They’ll know that something is strange about it before too long.”

“I’ll start building an ultrasound machine,” Don said, determination coming into his eyes.

“And probably April should start eatin’ healthy,” Raph said unexpectedly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Babies need extra food, don’t they? So they grow right?”

“We’ll start drawing up a diet plan for pregnancy, if April’s all right with that,” Leo said, resting his hand on his chin. “And we’ll have to adjust it for turtle physiology — more calcium, for one thing.”

April began to reply, but stopped as they heard a familiar voice booming from the elevator door to the surface. Normally it wouldn’t have caused her much distress, but right now all she could think of was how she was going to explain what was going on.

“Hey, guys! It’s Casey! Where are all of you?”


	48. Telling Casey Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one just turned out kind of humorous, despite the subject matter.

Casey stood on the elevated walkway that ran around the lair, his hands on his hips. His eyes took in everybody huddled around Don’s lab, their concerned faces turned towards him, and finally came to rest on April. She was still wrapped in her bathrobe, with hair still rumpled from a night’s sleep, and her hand resting on her stomach.

“April, you slept here all night?” he said. “You had a sleepover with the guys, is that it?”

“Something like that,” April said with a faint smile, uncomfortably aware that someone was going to have to tell Casey everything. She knew that he wasn’t petty enough to be enraged by the idea that April might be falling in love with someone else, but she also knew that the information about her being forced to mate with Donnie would enrage him. Especially since the Purple Dragons, his lifelong nemeses, were involved. And she didn’t know how he would react to her being pregnant by Don because of that.

She felt Don stiffen at her side, the same thoughts apparently going through his head — though he might also be worried that Casey might think he was stealing her away, and that a fight might break out between them. Without Casey seeing, she placed a comforting hand on his arm, then slid it down to rest her fist inside his hand. He curled his fingers around it, seemingly grateful for the contact.

Casey seemed to notice their apprehension, because an odd expression crossed his chiseled face. “Okay, everybody’s bein’ really weird today,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s the matter? Is there some kinda secret you don’t wanna tell me? Do I have a ‘kick me’ sign on my back?”

“We were discussing future changes for our family, Mr. Jones,” Splinter said vaguely. 

“Huh?” Casey said, looking baffled.

Raph glanced at April and Don, his keen eyes taking in their expressions, then grunted and turned away. “I’ll tell him everything,” he said, leaping out of the lab. “Come on, Case. We’re takin’ a walk in the sewer, and I’ll fill you in on what the shell is goin’ on.”

“Okay, if you want,” Casey said.

“I’ll come too, if you don’t mind,” Leo said, following a few steps behind.

Casey looked even more confused, but allowed the two Turtles to lead him out of the lair and into the dank, damp tunnels that ran around them on every side. Raph’s face was grim as he pulled at Casey’s elbow, his mind racing as he tried to figure out the best way to phrase it so his boneheaded best friend would understand what was going on. Raph wasn’t particularly good with words, but he suspected that Leo would have just as much trouble. There was no easy way to tell the guy that his recent ex-girlfriend — whom he was still interested in — had been effectively raped by his mortal enemies, and was now pregnant with Raph’s brother’s child. Shell, it sounded like one of Master Splinter’s shows.

After five minutes of silent walking, Casey suddenly stopped and dug his heels in, his blue eyes blazing as he looked from Raph to Leo and back again.

“Okay, Raph,” Casey said. “This is gettin’ real weird. Everybody’s being all weird. What are you guys tryin’ to say?”

Raph glanced at Leo, who shrugged and said, “You said you’d tell him.”

Raph growled a little, and then heaved a sigh. “Case, we found out about a day or so ago that somethin’… happened when April and Don were imprisoned by the Purple Dragons.”

“Like what?”

“Like… the Dragons made ‘em do things. Things they didn’t wanna do,” Raph said slowly

Casey’s expression was still completely baffled, and Leo could tell that Raph was struggling to come out and say what had happened to his closest friend. So the blue-masked Turtle spoke up. “What happened was — the Purple Dragons forced April to be — intimate with Don while they were imprisoned.”

“Intimate?” Casey said, as if he had never heard the word before.

“Sex, Casey,” Raph blurted out. “He means sex. April and Don.”

That bluntness caused light to dawn in Casey’s eyes, as he finally understood what they were trying to tell him. It was then swamped by a dark wave of blinding anger, and Leo found himself grateful that Raph had had the foresight to remove Casey from the lair before telling him anything. Casey’s powerful rage was effective in battle, but when not given a channel to flow through, he sometimes just destroyed whatever happened to be nearby. They had lost enough furniture to Casey’s emotions in the past.

“Those stinkin’ rotten punks—“ he snarled, clenching his fists and hunching over, as if preparing to charge against a wall of imaginary Purple Dragons. “Sick, disgustin’ — so that’s why April’s been so funny ever since we got her back!“

“And it’s partly why Don’s been so reclusive too,” Leo said.

Then Casey blinked. “But guys, how could Don do that?”

“It wasn’t his choice, Casey,” Leo said. “He was forced to do it, like April was.”

“No, I mean, how can he do that? Seriously. He’s got no… you know…” Casey gestured in the general direction of his groin. “No junk, you got me? I’ve seen him naked all the time, and none of you guys got nothing. So how could he do that with April?”

Raph groaned loudly and slapped a hand against his forehead. 

Once again, Leo felt that it was up to him to speak up. “We do have those, Casey. We just don’t keep them outside our bodies most of the time, the way humans do,” he said, wishing fervently that he wasn’t discussing turtle genitalia with Casey.

“For real?” Casey said, eyes wide. “What do they look like?”

“Don’t even think about asking to see mine,” Raph said darkly. “You’re gonna go to the grave not knowin’.”

Casey looked like he had more questions, so Leo hastily interceded before he could ask further questions about his friends’ genitalia. That was a topic he had never known he would have to discuss with Casey, but he did know he never wanted to again. “And because of the — intimacy between Don and April, something unusual has happened,” he said. “Something that we only found out about yesterday morning.”

“What is it? Do they got some kind of disease?” Casey asked.

“Not really,” Raph said uncomfortably. “See, the thing is — April’s pregnant.”

A stunned silence settled over the sewer tunnel, except for the drip of water and the squeaking scurry of a few rats. Leo braced himself for whatever reaction came from Casey next — he didn’t know whether it would be anger, disbelief, or some other response that didn’t slot neatly into any category. The man’s eyes were still wide, and Leo could almost see wheels whirling madly inside his head.

“She’s pregnant?” Casey said finally.

“Yeah,” Raph said.

“And Don’s the father.”

“Correct,” Leo said.

“April’s gonna have a turtle baby.”

“It’s the reason she’s staying in the lair, Casey,” Leo said, heaving a sigh. “She’s going to be living with us at least until the baby’s born, since it isn’t safe for her or the baby to be too exposed topside.”

“A turtle baby,” Casey repeated, as if Leo hadn’t spoken at all. “This ain’t for real, is it? You guys are just pullin’ my leg.”

Raph and Leo looked at one another, their expressions almost mirroring. “‘Fraid not, Casey,” Raph said. “She found out she’s pregnant yesterday, and we moved her in right away.”

If they hadn’t been standing over a small river of sewer water, Leo suspected Casey would have collapsed onto his backside. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “This is too weird. I didn’t think you guys could even get human girls pregnant ‘cause… you’re Turtles.”

“Neither did we,” Leo said, a strange look coming over his face. “But according to Donnie, we can.”

It took the better part of an hour for Casey to fully absorb what Raph and Leo were telling him. Leo patiently reiterated that April was pregnant with Don’s child, and that yes, she was very sure she was, and no, they were not joking. When Casey finally seemed to accept what had happened, Leo felt worn and spent.

“So what can I do?” Casey said, crossing his arms. “I could get the kid a crib or somethin’. I could ask my ma what babies need, and get ‘em for you — diapers, or bottles, or those little pajamas with feet, or —“

“That might be useful closer to the birth, Casey,” Leo said. “Right now, I think what April wants most is emotional support.”

“I can give her that,” Casey said steadfastly, with the air of a man undertaking an important mission.

“And you can find out more about the Purple Dragons and what they’ve been up to,” Raph said with a grim smile. “We got most of ‘em when that warehouse came down, and the ones who didn’t get crushed are in the hospital. But at least a couple escaped, and the news has had some stuff about the Dragons turnin’ on their own. Maybe we can help take both sides down.”

Casey grinned back at him. “It’ll be a pleasure,” he said. “We’re gonna give ‘em plenty of payback for what they did to April and Don.” He smacked a fist into his open palm.


	49. Time Passes

It took several days for April to adjust to living in the lair once more. The Turtles’ lives had their own strange rhythm — when they weren’t training, they goofed off like any teenage boys, and when they weren’t goofing off, they were running over rooftops and swinging through dark alleys. They could be noisy or chaotic, such as when Mikey decided to turn the lair into a skateboarding obstacle course and nearly ran over Master Splinter.

But she had to admit, all four brothers were devoted to making sure she was as comfortable as possible. She couldn’t even sit down without one of them diving to place a pillow behind her back or a stool under her feet, even though she wasn’t even showing yet. They would often bring her things rather than letting her get up to retrieve them herself. And when morning sickness struck — as it did shortly after she moved in — there were always pairs of green hands to pull her hair back from her face as she vomited.

Raph was the one who was acting the oddest. More than once, April found him using Don’s laptop, hunched over it as if he didn’t want anyone to see what he was doing. He snapped it shut when anyone inquired what he was looking at, usually with a grunt of “Nothin’.”

But otherwise, he seemed oddly cautious. He sometimes lurked around as she did things in the kitchen or around Don’s lab, watching her for any risky behaviors, insisting on carrying heavy things or retrieving high-up items for her. He seemed to almost see her as the fragile vessel carrying his brother’s child, and thus in need of his protection. April found it both endearing and annoying, and couldn’t help but wonder if Raphael felt a little guilt over his past hostility towards her.

Mikey seemed delighted by the news of a baby, although April wasn’t entirely sure he knew how much work a baby could be. He probably didn’t remember his own infancy that well, but April could only imagine how stressful it must have been for Splinter to care for four fully-mobile baby turtles all by himself.

Mikey also seemed a little unclear on how pregnancy worked, as he almost immediately asked April, “Can I feel your baby kick?”

“Mikey, the baby’s the size of a very small bean right now,” April said with a laugh. “It can’t really kick yet.”

“Oh.” He seemed a little crestfallen at the news, and April quickly promised to let him feel the kicks when the baby was large enough.

Leo was obviously pleased — but his delight over the baby’s existence seemed to run deeper than simply being glad that he was going to be an uncle. He seemed pleased by the idea that all of them could father children in general, not just that Don himself was becoming a father. April found herself wondering if this was something he had always wanted but never thought he could have.

Splinter seemed even more pleased than Leo, though he remained sensitive to April’s anxious feelings. He was obviously delighted by the news that he was going to be a grandfather, and remained steadfastly optimistic about the baby’s chances, despite Don’s worst fears. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to keep April relaxed and mellow, and she had to admit that it was comforting to be around him, especially given the absence of her own parents.

After two weeks of being doted on, April gathered the family together and announced that she was reopening her store.

“I love you guys, but it’s driving me crazy, having nothing to do but sit down here being pregnant,” she said.

“April, it’s not safe for you or the baby—“ Leo began to say.

“Leo, I’m not even showing yet, and I probably won’t for at least a few months,” April said firmly. “Even when I do start to show, I can just throw on a baggy sweater and everyone will just think I put on a few pounds.”

They all looked at one another, dismay obvious in their faces. “What will you do when you can no longer hide your condition?” Splinter asked quietly.

“I’ll shut down the store until the baby is born,” April promised. “But I need something to do for the time being. And we’re going to need money when the baby comes, for all the things it will need.”

They reluctantly agreed, after April finally agreed to bring a Shell Cell with her at all times, and to call them if anything odd happened. She reopened the store the following day, and felt a strange sense of normalcy return as she waited behind the counter for the customers. She felt a little nervous about being in the open again, but the feeling evaporated when she caught a glimpse of a short figure in a slouchy red hat, hoodie and baggy pants. Raphael. He often dropped into her store and hung around for awhile, vanishing if customers came in.

Don’s response was the strangest. He seemed apprehensive and almost shy when confronted by her pregnancy, as if he didn’t know what to do about it. April knew that he wasn’t trying to avoid responsibility, as many men in his position would, but she also knew that his powerful, intensely romantic feelings for her, his past trauma and his worries about the baby’s health were making it more complicated for him to deal with impending fatherhood. He seemed a little dazed by the idea of being a father, and since he was only seventeen and had never even had a girlfriend, April couldn’t blame him.

But she stayed close to him every day, making sure he didn’t feel neglected. As he worked in his lab, she made sure to contribute when she could, helping him draw up schematics and build devices. He seemed particularly devoted to creating an ultrasound machine that would allow him to examine their baby in as much detail as possible, to check on its health and viability.

As they worked, her hand often brushed his, and she felt his fingers move more deliberately against hers. At times she caught him looking at her, and then down at her stomach with an odd, fascinated expression.

After a few weeks, he said almost shyly, “Can I touch your stomach?”

She smiled, taking his hand between hers. “Of course you can.”

She placed his fingers against her lower belly, right above where she knew their baby was situated. She felt him stiffen a little at that, before his hand splayed against her pale flesh. He was gentle, pushing only a little against her, as if searching for that tiny fluttering heartbeat.

“If it grows at the same rate as a human embryo,” he said softly, “then it’s growing fingers and toes.”

April smiled, feeling tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. It was the first time Don had seemed tentatively excited about the baby, rather than worried about what was to come — he was still haunted by visions of genetic disaster from the mutagen-based conception. But for that moment, April saw a gentle smile on his lips and a softness in his eyes, and felt his hand resting above where their child was growing.

It was relief to know that he wanted the baby — that the the indirect rape that had conceived it hadn’t turned him against the child itself. April had known she wanted it from the moment Leo had suggested that it might be in danger from the Foot, feeling sudden fear at the idea of losing it. But there had been those anxious hours when she hadn’t been sure whether Don did. He didn’t seem entirely sure what to do about the baby, but he clearly wanted it to be healthy and as… well, as “normal” as an infant mutant could possibly be.

And April caught him occasionally with another look in his eyes — that soft, bittersweet look that she had never understood in the past few years. It threw her own emotions into turmoil every time — she wasn’t sure how recovered he was, and when it would be all right for him to seek out something more than friendship from her. She wished desperately that the Turtles had access to a therapist who could help Don through his troubles, but Master Splinter was close as they could get to that.

And April would never have admitted it to him, but Don often featured prominently in her dreams. Some were nothing more than sensations or glimpses, but she recognized the three-fingered hands running down her body, the cool olive-green skin pressed against her own, and the lips that she remembered all too well from their time in his room. She often woke up breathless, her body warm and tingling, half expecting to find him lying in the bed beside her — and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he wasn’t.


	50. Hospital At Night

The moon hung low over the concrete landscape, surrounded by a scattering of pale stars. Don hadn’t seen it for three months, since the night his brothers had rescued him from the Purple Dragons. And even then, he had only seen it in passing as Mikey had carried him to the Battle Shell, through the holes in the roof of the warehouse.

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it — running under the night sky with his brothers at his side, the cold wind blowing against his face. The four of them moved almost invisibly up above the rest of the world, aware of each other’s movements as they leaped and sprang through the air. And though none of them said it, Don could feel a little relief from them that he was venturing out with them again.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Donnie?” Leo said quietly from behind him.

“It’s been three months, Leo,” Don replied, not answering the question.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure he was ready. He was better than he had been even a month before, but that was still not particularly good — he was still jumpy and anxious. The other day, Raph had grabbed his arm from behind, just to get his attention, and Don had nearly smashed him in the face with a toaster, blinded by sheer panic. And while he no longer had nightmares about Racer every night, they still haunted him.

But he had barely stirred out of the lair for three months, and he had been starting to hate how it felt. Like Racer had broken him irreparably, leaving him unable to do what his brothers were doing. Well, no longer. He was going to reclaim his life — his strength — even if he had to tear it from the jaws of the Purple Dragons. He was going to prove to himself that his past capture had been a fluke.

And he was going to do something for his child in the process.

They moved swiftly over the roofs, leaping lightly past the streetlamps and landing on a stretch of empty sidewalk. Don glanced up and down the street, but saw no figures standing on it except Raph and Mikey, who were crouching in the shadows against the nearest building. He flattened himself against a dumpster, keeping his breathing quiet and his limbs still, his heart racing furiously against his ribs.

Ahead of them was a massive white building that spread out over almost an average city block, with curving entrances and glittering windows. An ambulance had just pulled up in front of one of them, and the Turtles could see a small figure being unloaded from it. Other ambulances could be heard in the distance, sirens blaring through the night air.

“So which part has the babies?” Mikey asked.

“You’re thinking of the newborn nursery,” Leo said. He squatted down and unrolled a large piece of paper, running his finger over the outlines of the floor plan. “Okay, the prenatal care division is over in this part of the hospital—“ He pointed at one corner of the hospital wing. “—right next to the NICU. We need to keep it quiet.”

“We’re ninjas, dude,” Mikey said with confidence. “We can be quiet.”

“Yeah, well, you better be,” Raph grunted. “‘Cause if you ain’t, we’re gonna have fifty babies all cryin’ about seein’ your ugly mug when they wake up.”

“Please, babies would love me,” Mikey said with a grin.

“Can you guys focus?” Leo said impatiently, rolling up the paper and absently tucking it in his belt. “Don, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Don said, looking out over the hospital, and thinking of what April had found there.

He had been devoting most of his time to trying to build an ultrasound machine, but he simply didn’t have the parts that he needed. As he had considered what to do next, April had been hacking into the computer networks of hospitals all throughout New York City. Searching, with quiet desperation, for something that could allow the two of them to check on their child’s health.

And that afternoon she had come to Don with shining eyes. This hospital had two different machines that had broken down and were about to be replaced, thanks to a wealthy donor whose wife and unborn child had received emergency care there. The ultrasound machines were due to be disposed of in two days, which gave them plenty of time to loot the components that Don needed. As long as they were careful, that was.

The four shadowy figures leaped down into the alley below, and checked for traffic before sprinting across the street. Leo leaped up to a darkened window that came open easily, and slithered into the office just on the other side. Don gripped the sill and slid in after him, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the office.

Even though they were only in a hospital, he could tell that Raph was gripping his sai, probably out of habit. “Relax, Raph,” Don said quietly. “There’s nobody here to fight.”

“We might still have to knock someone out,” Raph said ominously. “This place is probably crawlin’ with nurses.”

Leo was crouching by the door, peering out into the hallway outside. “Okay, let’s go,” he said softly.

Don’s heart began to beat faster as they raced out into the halls, where the pale ambient light left few shadows for them to hide in, and there wasn’t much furniture for cover. If anyone saw the Turtles here, it would all be over — they would have to flee without the ultrasound components they needed, and he would be back at square one. It might be months or even years before they had an opportunity like this again — and he only had six months before his child was born, assuming it took as long to gestate as a human baby.

Leo was already cracking doors open, peering inside each one with a grim look on his face. “What do ultrasound machines look like?” he whispered.

“Like a computer set on top of a large plastic box,” Don whispered back. “Usually they’re on wheels.”

With that helpful description, Leo slunk from door to door, slipping into rooms and back out of them on silent feet. Don glanced over his shoulder at the hall, and felt a chill go through him as he realized that Raph and Mikey were nowhere to be seen. Were they further down the hall, searching other rooms for the ultrasound machines?

“Is that one?” Leo whispered, opening one door a little wider.

Distracted, Don glanced inside the room at a streamlined black machine with a screen and keyboard on top. “Yes, that’s one. But that one looks too new for the models we’re looking for. They’ll probably have moved the broken ones to someplace other than an examination room.”

Leo went back to prowling the hall for any sign of disused ultrasound machines, his eyes roaming through every corner of every room he checked. Don took the other side of the hall, but glanced up with every rustle or whisper of air. He didn’t want to think about the mayhem that would ensue if giant turtle-men were found sneaking around a hospital, especially so close to the NICU. His stomach twisted in worry as he opened another door, peered inside at the technical equipment and cabinets inside —

“Hide!” Leo hissed.

Don looked up, and saw a white-clad figure approaching at the end of the hall. Fear spiked through him as he sprang into the room and closed the door as carefully as he dared, keeping the knob twisted so the mechanism wouldn’t click loudly. He leaned his entire weight against the door, praying that he and Leo hadn’t been seen.

Footsteps shuffled by. A shadow appeared under the door, moved along, and faded.

Don waited in silence, counting the beats of his own heart. Then he swung the door open, and peered out into the empty hall. Nothing but white rooms and white doors greeted him. He stepped out, wondering which door Leo was hiding behind.

Just then, a door across the hall opened wide, and Leo stepped out. He looked extremely satisfied, and his smile widened as he saw Don. “I think I found them,” he said sotto voce.

Don darted across the hall in an instant, and found himself inside a capacious room with metal shelves piled with coils of wire, tubs of paint and caulk, some assorted machines and — against the wall — two rather worn-looking ultrasound machines. He slipped a hand into his bag, and withdrew a screwdriver. “Keep an eye on the door, Leo,” he said quietly, digging it into a crack in the plastic casing. “I’ll do this as fast as I can.”

Leo peered out into the hall, closing the door most of the way. “Where are Mikey and Raph?”

“I don’t know. They vanished as soon as we came in,” Don said, removing a plastic plate and exposing the inner workings of the ultrasound machine.

He gutted the two machines almost in a trance, stripping away almost every usable part and slipping them into his duffel bag. Ideally, he would have taken the machines home and disassembled them there, but he was fairly sure he couldn’t sneak them out of the hospital unnoticed. All the parts he couldn’t build himself were easily removed, and safely tucked away so that he could use them later. Soon he and April would be able to see their child, and know at last if anything was wrong with it.

The idea made his stomach twist in fear. He had been so obsessed with finding out if the baby was somehow malformed by its mutagen-catalyzed conception that he hadn’t considered what would happen if it was. There were too many unknowns for him to even speculate. But if it was… he didn’t want to think about what could happen. There would be nothing he could do. April might give birth to a pain-wracked, gasping, half-formed creature that would live just long enough to die, and Don knew that such an event would destroy them both.

“Are you almost done?” Leo asked as Don’s shaking hands extracted the last of the equipment.

“Yes,” Don said, zipping the bag closed. “I’m — I’m done.”


	51. Hospital Discoveries

Don hugged the bag to his side as he and Leo slipped out into the hall, checking both ends for any more nurses or doctors. Their green bodies stood out starkly against the gleaming white floors and walls, and many halls didn’t even have a potted plant for them to hide behind. 

They had to dive behind a janitor’s cart when a mumbling, seemingly sleep-deprived resident wandered past them, and into one of the side-rooms when a formidable, goblin-like nurse came storming through the halls. At any moment, they expected to hear someone scream or shout for help at the sight of a man-sized turtle. But nothing came. 

“Should I call their Shell Cells?” Don whispered. 

“If we don’t find them soon,” Leo whispered back, poking a door open and peering inside. “The longer we’re here, the more likely that someone will find us. We can’t—“

A soft footfall — barely heard at all — behind them made them stiffen. 

Leo’s arm clamped on Don’s arm, and they leaped into the empty office without hesitation. Don flattened himself against the wall as best he could, in the shadow cast by the half-open door, but the curved shells on their backs made it difficult. Leo was pressed between the door and the wall, and if someone opened it any wider, they’d notice that someone was behind it.

A dark shape appeared in the doorway, surrounded by ambient light. Don stiffened and inched deeper into the shadows, pressing his bag against the wall. If necessary, he and Leo would simply run, and then —

“Donnie?” a rough voice said.

Don sagged with relief, a smile crossing his face. He darted out of the shadows, and seized Raph’s arm. “Raph! It’s about time you showed up,” he said, only half-meaning it.

“Have you seen Mikey?” Leo said, moving out into the light.

“Not since we got here. The little sneak went off on his own, and I been tryin’ to find him,” Raph said, scowling and crossing his arms. “I must’ve checked every room in this whole place.”

“He couldn’t have just wandered off,” Leo said, stroking his chin. “I mean, it’s a hospital — it’s not like they have anything that would interest him here. No video games, no comic books, no junk food, just a lot of sickness — and patients—“

His voice trailed off into an uncertain silence. An idea was forming in Don’s head as he thought back on what Michelangelo had said before they came into the hospital — and judging by the expressions on Leo and Raph’s faces the same thought was occurring to them. It was true that most of Michelangelo’s usual interests weren’t anywhere to be found in a hospital… but it wasn’t true that there was nothing that would interest him.

“It can’t be,” Leo said.

“He wouldn’t,” Don replied, gripping his bag.

“Oh yes, he would,” Raph said grimly. “And I’m gonna kick his tail if that’s why he sneaked off.”

“We’ll just have to check,” Leo said, pulling out the floor plans and examining them. “We’re just a few turns away from it. If Mikey’s in there, we drag him out.”

They moved in silence through the halls, their feet moving swiftly on the cold floors. Don found himself glancing over his shoulder frequently, half-expecting to see scrubs-clad figures appearing behind them. The hospital made him nervous, and not just because of the possibility of being seen. The idea of being caught and dissected was one that all four of the Turtles were haunted by. A hospital — with surgical tools, doctors and labs — was more than enough to make them uneasy.

He found himself relieved that he had convinced April not to come on this mission. She had suggested that she could distract nurses and doctors by pretending to be a patient. “I could pretend to faint if you guys needed the distraction,” she had suggested. “And Casey could claim he was having stomach pains or something.” Don had convinced her that ninja stealth would be more than enough, and he was glad he had — he didn’t want anyone in this hospital to discover she was pregnant, and get a look at the fetus.

Facing their destination was a wide, high-fronted desk that curved around the corner of the hall. Two receptionists were stationed there — one had dozed off in her chair, and the other one was deep in a pile of paperwork. 

Leo turned and beckoned his brothers closer, the gesture one Don knew meant “follow my lead.” Then the leader ducked down into a walking crouch, and darted past the desk to the wide glass doors embedded in the wall, allowing a slightly distorted view of what lay behind them. Don crouched down and moved behind Leo, his legs bumping into his chest, and his eyes rising to look through the glass doors.

Mikey was in there. He could see a green figure with a splash of orange standing in the midst of the incubators — and if someone walked in, they would see him.

Leo opened the door carefully, making sure that no noise was heard, and Don and Raph slunk in after him. Raph managed to wait until the door closed once again before he erupted. “Are you outta your mind, comin’ in here? Doctors ’n’ nurses are gonna be here any second, and they’re gonna see a five-foot turtle creepin’ around the babies!”

Mikey didn’t seem to react at first. Then slowly he turned to face them, and Don was shocked to see that there wasn’t a trace of a smile or a joke on his face. Mikey only rarely looked like that, and only in dire circumstances.

“They’re so little,” he said in a low voice. “Why are they so… tiny?”

Don came closer, and looked at the incubator that Mikey had been gazing into, already with an idea of what was in it. Inside was an infant small enough that he might have been able to hold it in one large hand, with spindly reddened limbs tangled in tubes and patches of gauze. It looked almost painfully delicate, as if a stray breeze might hurt it, but Don was suddenly seized by a desire to hold it, comfort it. He watched as the tiny ribcage expanded and contracted with every breath, and one tiny hand fluttered as the baby dreamed.

Leo came closer to Mikey, and looked down somberly into the incubator. “The babies in this area are ones that were born prematurely, or who had something wrong with them when they were born,” he said quietly, resting a hand on Mikey’s shoulder. “That one needed a month or two more, I guess.”

Mikey put a hand on the transparent plastic. “Is he… or she… gonna be okay?” he asked.

“I’m sure the baby will be fine, Mikey,” Leo said soothingly. “They’re giving him or her the best of care. But right now, we have a baby to take care of at home—“

“And for once it ain’t you,” Raph said.

“—and we need to get out of here before someone catches us in the NICU,” Leo finished. “Nothing would get everyone on high alert faster than what appear to be little green men around the premature babies.”

“I guess you’re right,” Mikey said reluctantly. He peered down into the incubator. “Stay strong, little baby,” he said quietly.

They moved out quietly, the receptionists never noticing the four silent shapes exiting the NICU, and made their way to an office with a large enough window to slip out of. Don waited until Leo was securely stationed outside to hand him the bag, unwilling to risk its precious contents by crawling out with it on his body.

“We’d better get back quick,” Leo said as he took the bag carefully. “I hear sirens coming.”

As Don stuck his head out into the cold night air, he heard them as well — and it was several sirens, screaming out of sync with each other. He jumped down lightly onto the overhang and crouched down beside Leo, his heart racing as the sirens came ever closer. Surely nobody had seen them in the NICU — they had been so careful to be silent and unseen there. Yet he felt apprehension flutter inside him as Mikey and Raph landed beside him, crouching down in the shadows.

The ambulances came veering up the road and under the overhang, in a line of whirling red-and-blue lights. EMTs moved out of them and began opening doors, and Don could see bodies on stretchers being pulled from the backs of the vehicles. Blood-spattered bodies were lying on them, groaning and twitching feebly.

“There must have been some kind of major accident,” Leo said grimly.

The EMTs brought one of the stretchers closer to the overhang, and something about the person lying on the stretcher inspired Don to creep closer. A feeling of cold dread began to spread from deep inside him, as if he had swallowed an enormous chunk of ice. It was a man with a shaved head, his bloodstained denim vest embroidered with a large purple dragon. His face was so bruised and bloodied that it couldn’t be seen clearly, but Don knew it. He would never forget it.

Suddenly all he could think of was that man, holding April tightly as Racer hurt him — thrust into him, over and over — whispered poisonous words in his ear — and then another memory, of April screaming and thrashing as Darts pried her legs apart —

“Darts,” he whispered.

“What, Donnie?” Raph asked.

“Darts. That was — he was with Racer, in the cell,” Don said, his voice wavering. 

Raph’s voice lowered into a growl, and Don heard the whisper of his sai being pulled from his belt. “He was, was he? Well, he’s—“

“Stand down, Raph,” Leo said sternly.

“No way. After what he did to Donnie, I’m gonna poke him fulla holes—“ Raph snarled.

“I said stand down,” Leo said, his eyes growing cold and hard as steel.

“You can take what you said and shove it up your—“

“Raph,” Don said quietly. “Leo’s right. We can’t take the risk of anyone seeing us.” He turned towards his red-masked brother, seeing that Raph was almost shaking with fury, his face locked in a snarl, his sai still clutched in his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with them now. He had worked himself into a rage, Don knew, and it would be hard to get him out of it.

Quickly, Don placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders, and gripped him tightly. “Thank you, Raph,” he said quietly. “I really appreciate this, but we can’t — not right now. We have to focus on getting these parts back to my lab.”

The shaking began to subside, but the rage flickering in Raph’s eyes didn’t. He growled down at Darts as the Purple Dragon was wheeled into the hospital, as if he couldn’t bear to let him get away.

“Are you guys noticing somethin’ weird about these patients?” Mikey said, hanging his head over the side of the overhang.

“No, what?” Raph snapped.

“They’re all Purple Dragons,” Mikey said, crouching on the edge. “All of them. Look, that guy has a tattoo — that guy has it on his jacket — that guy there was one of the cage fighters when we rescued Casey —“

Don’s eyes flickered down to the patients being wheeled in, and saw with growing discomfort that Mikey was right. Each one was a face he recognized from many run-ins with the Purple Dragons — just ordinary street thugs, with little to set them apart from each other. But they were all battered and bloodied, as if Hun had been casually knocking them around. 

That raised some sobering questions, Don reflected. The Purple Dragons weren’t the most powerful force in New York, but they weren’t to be trifled with either. If some other gang was attacking them hard enough for several of them to be hospitalized, then a new player might be taking part in the city’s underground power struggles. Or perhaps… perhaps since Darts was one of the victims, someone was cleaning house of the disloyal Dragons who had dared to act behind the back of their cruel leader. 

Leo must have been thinking something similar, because he said, “We can’t worry about that right now. We’ll head home and consider our options there, while Don works on the ultrasound. Maybe something about the Dragons will be on the news.” 

Four shadows leaped down into the shrubbery that surrounded the hospital, darting away into the night. As Don ran, he glanced back up at the darkened windows above him, and thought of tiny, fragile lives sleeping in plastic boxes up in the hospital.

Maybe he would build an incubator. Just to be safe.


	52. Green-Eyed Monster

The lair seemed warm and inviting as Don stepped out of the elevator — a familiar place that was overflowing with the presence of his family. He could already feel his raveled nerves starting to heal, after the unexpected emotional shocks of the premature babies and the sight of Darts. Now all he had to do was buckle down and build the ultrasound, test it out on someone other than April, and they would be ready to check on the baby…

“Donatello!” Master Splinter’s voice called.

The rat sensei was sitting in front of the televisions, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes fixed on his returning sons. April was sitting beside him, a blanket wrapped around her, her legs curled up under her, and her red hair loose around her shoulders. She looked young, slightly sleepy, disheveled — and so beautiful that Don’s heart began to ache from looking at her.

And beside her, leaning against a pillar, was Casey. He was smiling broadly and saying something Don couldn’t hear, but he saw April reply just as quietly. Her green eyes were bright, and her mouth curved in a smile.

“Was your mission a success?” Splinter asked.

Don blinked, breaking out of his thoughts. “Yes, Master,” he said, unslinging the bag from his shoulder. “We got every usable part we could carry out of there. It shouldn’t take me long to finish my own.”

“That’s great news,” April said warmly, sliding her feet to the floor. “Did you have any problems finding them?”

“Not really,” Don said, unzipping it and looking at the jumbled components inside. April came towards him and rested her fingertips lightly against his arm as she looked into the bag, her head bowed close to his. He could smell the sweet scent of honeysuckle in the air around her — she must have just washed her hair, he thought. She always used that shampoo, and he couldn’t help but smell it when she stood near him.

He glanced up at Casey, who had just greeted Raph with a fist-bump. “Just keepin’ April from bein’ lonely,” he said cheerfully. “Why didn’t you guys invite me to come with you? I could’ve pretended to be a doctor or somethin’ to give you a cover.”

Raph laughed at that. “You, a doctor? That would be funny. Or terrifyin’, for a patient.”

“Fine, not a doctor. How ‘bout a daddy?”

“What do you know about babies?”

“More’n you do, I bet,” Casey laughed, playfully faking a punch at Raph’s head.

As the two bantered back and forth, Don went to his lab and began spreading the components across his worktable. His heart was beating furiously, the way it had in the hospital — and he wasn’t entirely certain why. Slowly, he looked up at Casey, and his eyes moved back to April, sitting and watching her ex-boyfriend and Raph bicker amiably, with a soft smile on her lips. She looked at ease, amused. Happy.

Don quickly turned away from them, his heart racing. This — this wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel this way. He had seen April interact with Casey for the past few years — from the first acrimonious crackles of sexual tension to their brief foray into dating. During all that time, silently watching it unfold, Don had chosen to only expect what April chose to give him — the time she wanted to share with him, the togetherness she wanted with him. He made himself think only of what made her happy, not what he wanted for himself.

And he didn’t have any right to be upset about Casey spending time with her. No right at all. April made her own choices about who she saw. Casey had been coming to see her almost every day, checking on her well-being and making sure she didn’t need anything the Turtles couldn’t provide.

April was her own woman — she didn’t belong to Don. She wasn’t even in a relationship with him, despite the intimate moments they had shared. He had no right — no reason — to resent Casey for being near her.

He rested his face on his hands, his heart still thudding in his ears. He had never felt this way before — he never allowed himself to feel resentment or jealousy, thinking only of April’s happiness. What had changed inside him to make this happen?

Maybe it was that she knew of his feelings now. He had chosen to stay silent partly because he had believed she could never return his feelings, his desire for her. But now she knew, and he had seen in her eyes that she felt something for him too — as confusing and reluctant as those feelings were. Maybe he felt this swell of jealousy because of what they had shared in the dim confines of his room, what April had given him — the kisses, the caresses, nearly making love with him. Even if nothing bound them together, he knew that she felt something for him too.

Or maybe it was a primal possessiveness because she was pregnant with his child. It wasn’t a turtle instinct — male turtles never even saw the eggs they fertilized, let alone the young — but Don was no longer an ordinary turtle, and the child he had fathered wasn’t either. He huddled forward in his chair, wondering if the pregnancy was the reason he was feeling this way.

He glanced up at April again. Casey’s arm was loosely looped around her shoulders as they spoke, and April was smiling a little as the human announced, “And I’ve got this cousin who had kids a couple years back. I bet I could get some stuff from her real cheap, like a crib or a car seat for the Battle Shell. Just say the word, April.”

“Maybe when I’m a little closer to my due date,” April said, rubbing her stomach. She was only three months along, but she was slender enough that a faint curve had appeared on her abdomen.

Don looked down at the ultrasound components, and began checking them for any signs of damage. But as his eyes and hands worked, his mind was somewhere else. Perhaps… perhaps she just preferred Casey. Don couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t understand — she clearly found Casey attractive, and had even said that their breakup might not be permanent. The vigilante was her own kind.

And though she felt something for him, Don also knew that she was apprehensive. He had been struggling past the damage that Racer had inflicted on him — trying to be someone she could love without feeling guilt — but there was still his youth. He was still only seventeen years old, and that hurdle might be more than April could handle. It had seemed to worry her a lot, and it wasn’t something he could change…

“Are you okay, Don?”

He stiffened, feeling a small hand brush against his arm. “April,” he said quietly, looking up.

She was staring at him with concern, her lips slightly parted. “You looked so sad,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his face. “I was wondering if something was bothering you.”

Her wide green eyes were so close that for a moment he felt himself lost in their depths. Her hand was resting on his now, her fingers clinging to his knuckles. “I’m all right,” Don said quietly, smiling a little. “I was just thinking about — about you, and — about us. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you, Don,” April said, sounding almost indignant. As if to cement this, her fingers pressed between his, twining their hands together. “I don’t want you to feel this way.”

He had to resist the urge to put his arms around her, to hold her close until all his doubts seeped away. Instead, he pressed his other hand over hers, feeling her warmth soaking into his skin. “As we came out of the hospital,” he said haltingly, “we saw Purple Dragons being unloaded from ambulances. One of them was Darts.”

It took a moment for the name to register with April, but he saw a dark veil fall across her eyes as she remembered Darts. How he had tried to rape her, and had only been stopped by Don’s intervention. How he had helped Racer rape Don. He could almost see the thoughts flashing through her mind as her clear gaze became clouded, and her hand stiffened between his.

“Yeah, we saw a whole bunch of Purple Dragons bein’ brought in. Someone was whalin’ on them,” Raph broke in.

Leo crossed his arms, coming closer to the lab. His dark eyes were troubled. “Someone went to town on the Purple Dragons, and we need to find out who was it,” he said. “If it’s someone new in town, they could be a real danger, even with Hun in charge of the Dragons.”

“It might have been other Purple Dragons,” Don said slowly. “The ones who kidnapped us were working behind Hun’s back — if he found out what happened, he would probably make sure that every one of them was hospitalized or killed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Raph grunted. “Let ‘em fight each other.”

“And we can beat up whoever wins,” Casey added with a grin.

“It may not be that simple,” Leo said meditatively. “If the conflict is big enough, the Dragons could cause some real damage with their infighting.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to investigate further,” Splinter said. “If the Purple Dragons are in conflict with one another, they will not be expecting you to take advantage of their dissension. It may be possible to end their threat completely.”

“Sounds like we’ve got some investigatin’ to do,” Raph said. “You up for that, Casey?”

“You know it,” Casey said, a confident grin on his face.

But that grin faded slightly as his eyes went to April’s hand, still pressed between both of Don’s, her fingers tightly twined with his. Don wondered if April realized how this looked to others, including Casey, or whether she had gotten distracted and forgotten whom she was touching. Either way, he could feel Casey’s eyes watching him curiously, and with more than a little uncertainty. Don knew that feeling all too well, and he felt a pang of remorse for his past jealousy.

“Be careful, guys,” April said to both Raph and Casey, concern lacing her voice.

Raph scooped up his motorcycle helmet as he headed to the elevator with Casey. He had a peculiar look on his face that Don didn’t recognize, as if he was summoning his courage to do something he didn’t particularly want to do. The massive aqua doors slid closed between them before Don could ask him any questions, and they were gone.

He turned back to April to find her smiling at him gently, her eyes soft and bright. “And we have an ultrasound machine to build,” she said.

Don smiled a little at that, feeling the knot of unease inside him beginning to loosen. “Your wish is my command.”


	53. Watching Purple Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, this is all leading into Don and April finally getting together.

“So what’s goin’ on with April and Don?”

Raph lowered the night-vision binoculars, but his eyes still gazed into the darkness of the street below. He and Casey had been following a few Purple Dragons for the past few hours, running across the rooftops and swinging down into alleys. Now they were waiting outside an old boarded-up store for the Dragons to come out, crouching in the icy wind and trying not to shiver too much.

It was the question Raph had been waiting for all evening. Casey was a bonehead, but he wasn’t dumb enough to miss April and Don holding hands like they were trying to squeeze off each other’s fingers, and standing close enough to gaze into each other’s eyes. It would have taken somebody blind, deaf and utterly clueless to not pick up on how they were acting. Raph wasn’t even sure they knew what they were doing.

“Well, Donnie’s got a thing for April,” he said gruffly, pretending to wipe a smudge from the binoculars.

Casey frowned. “I always knew he spent a lotta time around April, doing lots of science stuff. Used to be she’d spend all her free time with him doin’… whatever they did.”

“Well, now it’s… complicated.”

“Because of the baby?”

“It was complicated before they knew about the baby,” Raph said grimly.

“Why didn’t you tell me, man?” Casey said, his brow crinkling. “You don’t think I shoulda known that Donnie was movin’ in on April?”

Raph sighed. The truth is, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, and hadn’t been for a long time. Casey was his best friend, but Don was his brother — caught between them, he felt like he was being stretched in two different directions. The happiness of one could only come by hurting the other, since April didn’t seem like the sort of woman to have two men at once. And if forced to choose, Raph knew he had to side with his brother. The four of them were inextricably bound, a whole only when they were together — and the bond between them was something that went deeper than blood.

He settled back against a brick chimney, and heaved a misty sigh. “Because I’m still not sure what the two of them are doin’. I mean, they ain’t technically together or nothing. But they ain’t exactly not together either.” Raph growled, frustrated by his own struggle to describe what he had been seeing between his brother and April. “I don’t know what they are right now. Or what they’re gonna do in the future.”

Casey sat back beside him, seemingly digesting what his friend had told him. “I didn’t even know you guys liked human girls and not… y’know, turtles.”

“Well, there ain’t a lot of mutant turtle girls around, so we’ll never know. It’s human girls or nothin’,” Raph said, crossing his arms. “Donnie started likin’ April almost as soon as he met her. He just didn’t say it.”

“So what changed?”

“They got all screwed up by what happened when they were captured by the Dragons, and Donnie kissed her.”

Staring down at the dark, boarded-up windows, Raph sensed rather than saw Casey gawping at the idea of Don kissing April. The vigilante seemed to be struggling to imagine such an event, even after seeing them so close earlier in the night. Finally Casey draped his hands over his knees and said, “So uh… do ya know if April, you know, feels the same way about Don?”

“I ain’t sure,” Raph said, raising the binoculars to his eyes again. “I’ve seen ‘em be kinda cuddly, but never seen ‘em kissing again.”

“So what do I do?” Casey asked, sounding genuinely baffled by the situation he found himself in.

“My advice, you talk to April and find out what she’s feelin’,” Raph said. It seemed like the common-sense thing to do. Although, he thought, it might be a bad idea, for all he knew. He had even less romantic experience than Don did, having never even kissed a woman, and therefore no experience at all in love triangles. He definitely didn’t know why Casey, who had actually dated various women in the past, was expecting Raph to advise him about what he should do with April.

Fighting, Raph knew all about, and could give some pointers. Romance? Women? He might as well be talking about the inner workings of one of Donnie’s inventions.

“I might—“ Casey began to say.

But Raph stiffened and raised a hand. A battered door was flung open down below them, and the two figures they had been shadowing emerged into the night, behind a veil of overgrown creepers and weeds. One of them was a snivelly-looking little punk with spiky orange hair and a ragged bandana tied around his neck, and the other one was short and muscular, almost square-shaped with his broad shoulders and tree-trunk-like legs. The two of them piled into a waiting van, which sputtered to life and began moving down the street.

Raph leaped down the side of the building, lightly springing between brick walls before landing on the alley floor. He could hear Casey following rather less gracefully on the fire escape, but he couldn’t wait — he had to keep on the trail of the two Dragons. The Shell Cycle was tucked into the alley alongside Casey’s motorcycle, and it took him only a moment to don his helmet and start the engine.

It was always a thrill when he rode his bike through the night, a streak of green and crimson swerving around corners and down the dark streets, the cool air blasting over his skin. But he forced himself to focus on the two Dragons, whose lumbering vehicle was puffing and coughing its way into a rather run-down district. Suddenly they were surrounded by old warehouses, decrepit houses and sleazy little stores lining the streets.

Casey pulled up alongside Raph, his face hidden by his hockey mask. “So we gonna beat these guys or what?” he said.

“Once they lead us to the other Dragons,” Raph responded, “and we find out who’s takin’ ‘em out.”

He slowed his pace as the van stopped, and pulled over near an aged Victorian house with boarded-up windows and doors. Thin, dim beams of light were shining from between the boards. Even from out in the street, he could hear voices arguing faintly from inside — someone was having an argument, or at least too upset to keep their voices down. As Casey drove up, Raph sprang up onto the porch roof and pressed himself against one of the broken windows.

“—wasn’t supposed to know! Dragon Face told us that Hun wouldn’t even notice these jobs!” a high, nasal voice declared.

“And he didn’t! He’s too wrapped up in those Foot freaks to notice!” a deeper voice declared.

“Well, he didn’t at first. He didn’t notice the drugs, the guns, none of it. But then Dragon Face had to go catch that Turtle!”

A few shingles fell from the roof as Casey scrambled up beside Raph, his bag of bats and hockey sticks slung over his shoulder.

“We had no business doin’ jobs like that,” a reedy voice moaned.

“He said the money was too good to pass up, especially for gettin’ rid of those mutant frog things,” a fourth voice argued. “‘Specially since the guy gave us all the stuff we needed to catch ‘em. And when they were gone, we wouldn’t have to deal with ‘em ever again.”

“Well, that failed!” the nasal voice sniped. “They came chargin’ in to rescue the one we got, we lost a buncha Dragons, and Hun found out!”

A grim smile crossed Raph’s face. He despised Hun more than he despised any other Purple Dragon — well, he did now that Racer was dead — but it gave him some measure of satisfaction to know that the scum who kidnapped Donnie were being taken out by their own leader. It saved Raph the trouble of taking care of them himself.

“We stay low, we keep our noses clean, and Hun’ll get distracted by his Foot Clan stuff,” the deep voice said.

“It’s too late,” the nasal voice lamented. “He’s been cleanin’ house, and he’ll come for us soon. He’s put dozens of Purple Dragons in the hospital, and when they’re out, the cops just scoop ‘em up. That ain’t counting the ones he’s put in the ground!”

The sound of a fist striking flesh. “Pull yourself together,” the deep voice said. “We can get through this! All we need to do is stay outta Hun’s way until he gets caught up in something else.”

“Maybe we should leave town,” the reedy voice whined.

“Guess I’ll have to beat Hun to it,” Raph said softly, pulling his sai from his belt.

“I’m ready when you are,” Casey said, and Raph could tell he was grinning behind his mask.

Raph stood up and braced his heels against the rough shingles of the rooftop, before raising his leg and kicking the rotten wood covering the window. He heard cries of surprise and anger as splinters and chunks of wood came raining down from above, just before he landed in the midst of the Purple Dragons. A few dozen pallid faces, bulging fishlike eyes, hands desperately clutching makeshift weapons that wouldn’t hold up a minute before the sai.

“I hear you boys messed with my brother,” Raph snarled.

Casey landed with a crash right behind him, a bat already clutched in each hand. “And with April!” he said. “Goongala!”

Raph plunged into the crowd of Purple Dragons, punching and kicking his way through them with reckless abandon. This was what he had been missing for way too long — the heat, the wildfire of fighting coursing through his veins as he crashed his way through a solid wall of enemies, leaving them bleeding and broken in his wake. He could hear Casey roaring his usual battle cry, and the crash of wood and drywall as Dragons were sent flying into the walls.

And every time Raphael felt a twinge of mercy, or thought that he should pull back from what he was doing, he reminded himself that these Dragons might have been there. Might have paralyzed his brother, might have dragged him into a cell like an animal, might have stood there and watched as he was brutally raped by Racer. And he fought even harder.


	54. Casey and April

April woke slowly, her cheek resting against the battered cushions of the aqua sofa. It smelled faintly of potato chips and mutant Turtle, which she found more soothing than she should have.

Slowly she sat up, brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes and looking around in confusion. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have dozed off at some point, and been left to sleep there. Mikey was sprawled on the lounge chair nearby, snoring softly and mumbling something about the Turtle Titan, with Klunk draped bonelessly over his lap.

Then April heard something else — the telltale crackling of soldering, coming from Don’s lab. She crawled up onto her knees and peered over the back of the couch, and saw him hunched over his workbench, the sparking light reflecting in his goggles. He looked as if he hadn’t moved in hours — and knowing Don, April suspected he hadn’t. He could stay awake and lucid for days if he needed to, when he was consumed by a problem.

“Donnie?” she called out, coming toward him. She glanced at his computer as she passed — the clock said 6:03 A.M.

He stopped soldering and pulled off his goggles. “April,” he said with a wan smile. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Don, have you slept at all?” she asked, putting a hand on his arm.

“Um, no,” Don said, sounding uncomfortable. “Now that I have the parts I need, I really want to get this ultrasound finished—“

“Don, the baby can wait a little longer,” April said. “It’s not going anywhere. You can’t go without sleep for a couple of days and solder things safely.” She slipped her hands over the curves of his cheeks, raising his head to look her in the eye. She felt him relax slightly at her touch, and the resistance in his eyes began to ebb away, slowly but surely. 

“I just—“ Don said quietly.

“The baby needs you more than it needs an ultrasound. And so do I,” she said softly, stroking her thumb against the corner of his eye. He sighed and leaned into her touch, as if soaking up the contact with her skin. “Just sleep — at least for a few hours, Don. For me.”

It was the last two words that seemed to finally break him down. She saw that yearning look in his eyes as he responded with a sigh, and reluctantly pulled away. She watched as he put away his tools and pushed back his chair, before heading to the old fire-escape that led up to the second floor. His movements were slower, less acrobatic than usual — the lack of sleep and the strain were showing in him, as hard as he tried to work past them.

For a moment, she was tempted to follow him into his room and stay by him until he fell asleep. He was working so hard for their child — for her — that she almost felt guilty pushing him to sleep when he didn’t want to. But she also didn’t want his hand to slip at a crucial moment while holding a soldering iron. A few more hours wouldn’t make any difference.

As he vanished into his room, April heard a faint whirring noise behind the walls, and the aqua doors to the elevator parted. Raph and Casey stepped out, looking battered and bruised — Casey had a bandage running over his cheek and a few tears in his shirt, and Raph was trying to rub smears of dark liquid from his green skin. Blood.

He glanced up at April’s expression. “It ain’t mine,” he informed her. “Most of it ain’t, anyway.”

April let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Those Purple Dragons ain’t gotta worry about Hun no more,” Casey said, giving her a thumbs-up. “We left ‘em all tied up like a birthday present for the cops. After we softened ‘em up, that is.”

“I’m glad you two are all right,” April said.

“Where’s Donnie?” Raph asked, glancing around. 

“I just sent him off to bed. Mikey’s asleep—“ She pointed over at the lounge chair. “—and I think Leo is upstairs.”

Raph’s eyes rose briefly to the doorway of Don’s room, and then he wiped at a dark stain on his cheek. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said casually, glancing over his shoulder at Casey. “Don’t wait up for me.”

April frowned, not understanding what he meant by that. But as Raph headed towards the bathroom, she realized why he had made a point of leaving — Casey was looking at her with a strange, nervous expression, unable to meet her eyes when she turned toward him. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his gloved hand, his eyes slowly moving across the floor at her feet. Finally he seemed to summon up the ability to speak.

“So, uh….” he muttered. “You feelin’ okay? With the baby and everythin’?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” April said. She was actually feeling a little nauseous, but she also had the odd feeling that the baby wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Well, that’s good. I mean, you should feel fine,” Casey said quickly. “If there’s anythin’ I can do to make you — feel fine, just lemme know. It’s all part of the job, and everything. The guys are real pumped about that baby, I can tell ya — bein’ uncles and stuff.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Raph’ll be a great uncle — teach the kid to wrassle and how to fight and stuff.”

April listened to him patiently, waiting for him to get to the point of what was clearly bothering him. When he paused for breath, she held up a hand, and said quietly, “What’s really the matter here, Casey?”

He stopped, his hand still uneasily rubbing the back of his neck. He bit his lip, struggling to find the words. “Are you in love with Donnie?” he said at last.

Silence fell over the lair, broken only by the distant sound of water running. April felt her pulse racing as she drew back slightly, the blunt question sinking into her mind. She hadn’t expected Casey to come right out and ask her that — her first thought had been that Casey wanted to rekindle their relationship, and wanted her to know that the baby didn’t make him disinterested in her.

And though she had often considered whether she was falling in love with Don, somehow having it asked openly made her feel as though she had been slapped. For the first time she had to come up with an actual answer to the questions swirling in her mind, the feelings that seemed to boil up inside her whenever she was near Don.

“I think I am,” she said quietly.

Casey said nothing at first. He simply watched her evenly, his fidgeting gone now that he had asked the question. But then sadness crept into his eyes, and April felt a wrench.

“Casey, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

“Don’t be,” Casey said hastily. “You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for. I just — I wanted to make sure you really felt that way about him, you know? That you weren’t just stayin’ with him because of the baby.” A glimmer of hope appeared in his face. “‘Cause if that’s how it is, I don’t mind you havin’ Don’s baby. Modern family, you know? I’d be a great dad to it.”

“My baby already has a father, Casey,” April said, touching her stomach.

“It could have two dads,” Casey said, raising his hands. “I wouldn’t be tryin’ to take Don’s place or nothin’.”

April smiled weakly. “I appreciate the offer, Casey, but… I don’t feel the way I do about Don just because of the baby.” She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye — it felt as if she had done something wrong, as if she had cheated on Casey by falling in love with Don. “I — I was already starting to feel that way before I found out I was pregnant. I don’t know exactly when it started, but I —“ She swallowed hard. “I feel really confused. I’m sorry…”

Casey smiled crookedly. “I understand,” he said. “I really do. You don’t gotta be sorry about feelin’ that way. I just wanted to make sure.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Don’t think about it. The important thing is you’re happy,” Casey said steadfastly. “You are happy, right?”

April felt herself flinch at the question. “I — I don’t know,” she said quietly. 

“Don ain’t makin’ you happy?”

“Don and I aren’t — aren’t technically together, Casey.”

Casey’s brow wrinkled. “Why not? I mean, he’s in love with you and you said you’re in love with him.”

“Don — he’s been finding his way back after — what happened with the Purple Dragons, and I didn’t want to take advantage of that,” April said slowly. “Besides, he’s much younger than I am, and I — I don’t know it’s right for me to be with him.”

Casey stared at her, and then shrugged. “Raph’s my best friend, and it don’t matter none that he’s way younger’n me. He acts older than he is a lot of the time, you know? And look, I don’t know exactly what happened to Don when you were captured, ‘cause somethin’ real bad must’ve happened to make him act this funny, but I do know he’s doin’ better because you’re around him every day.”

April wrapped her arms around herself, and sank down onto the edge of Don’s computer chair. Casey wasn’t exactly a master of persuasive argument, but there was a certain raw quality to his words that made her protests seem silly and feeble. She knew Don was doing better than he had been before she had kissed him, but she didn’t know how much of his recovery was because of her presence and how much was his own strength. She had desperately wanted to keep him going, to protect him from his own trauma, to let him know that she would never abandon him. Never.

Because she loved him.

The words popped into her head without her consciously thinking them, as if someone else had whispered them in her ear. Suddenly her breath was gone and her heart was racing, as the words _I love him, I love him, I love him_ rushed through her like a river current, sweeping away everything in their path. She loved him, she wanted him, she needed to tell him…

She thought back to his face, his eyes as she had told him that not making love to him wasn’t a rejection, but a postponement — that he needed time to heal, and she needed time to figure herself out. There had been sadness there at the time, but also hope. Hope that she might be his when he was better, no matter how impossible he had once thought it was. And that had been before they learned that he had impregnated her, which tied them ever more tightly together.

She had been straining against her feelings ever since she had found out he loved her — maybe she had been scared by having feelings for someone so different from her. He was brilliant beyond the measure of anyone else she had ever met. He was special, something amazing, and yet he looked at her like a child seeing the moon for the first time. She couldn’t understand why…

Casey seemed to have noticed her turmoil, and he leaned on Don’s computer table. “It seems pretty simple to me,” he said. 

“Maybe it is,” April said softly. She settled back in the chair, feeling guilt seep back into her thoughts. “Casey, I really am sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Casey said, still looking sad despite his smile. “I wantcha to be happy, and if Don makes you happy, that’s what’s important. That’s the most important thing.”

He spread his arms toward her, and April swiftly moved forward to hug him, resting her head against his solid muscled chest. She still felt guilt for having to turn away a man who loved her still, someone she still had affection for. But Don… she had something more for him, something rooted deep in her soul, something that rang out in her mind like a church bell, sang out in her heart as she thought about Don’s face when he had looked up at her.

Now she just had to talk to him.


	55. The Third Kiss

Don’s bedroom was quiet and dark as April passed it, except for a feeble flicker of light from his desktop lamp. She leaned in the door, looking for any sign that he was still awake — but no, there was a mound of blankets on his bed above her, moving slightly with every breath. She could see his arm flung out over the edge.

For a moment, she was tempted to creep up those stairs to where he was lying, and simply lie beside him as he had once lain beside her. Let him feel her against him, even as he slept. But she knew that he would probably wake up if she did that, and he needed to sleep — especially since she knew nothing would dislodge him from the ultrasound project when he finally awoke. So she slipped away to her own room.

She felt vaguely drained after her encounter with Casey, and a glance at her glowing digital clock told her that she had only had a few hours of sleep the night before. “I’m being tired for two now,” she murmured in the direction of her own stomach.

She flicked on the light, and slipped off the clothes that had begun to feel grimy with sweat. After wrapping herself in a thin cotton robe, she sank onto her bed and nestled among her pillows and blankets. The lair was always pleasantly cool, even in the middle of summer or winter — a benefit of being deep underground — and the sound of water rushing through the pipes was strangely comforting. She stared up at the curved ceiling and thought about Don. About the ache inside her that left her craving the Turtle’s presence. About the flood of emotions that Casey had accidentally unleashed, past the defenses she had erected in her mind…

She shivered and rolled onto her side, running her hand down her stomach under her robe, stroking her skin absently. Memories flooded through her mind — Don’s arms around her, holding her close to him. He was shorter than she was, but she knew he was strong enough that he could have lifted her off the floor without much effort. 

Her eyelids drooped, and she snuggled into her pillows and blankets. When she had gotten some sleep, she would take Don aside from his work — tell him how she felt — 

She didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep until she was halfway awake again, her body heavy and her eyes misty. She could hear the Turtles going about their business down below — Leo’s swords slashing through the air and clashing with Master Splinter’s walking stick, Raph grunting as he struck his bag. And as she sank back into her dreams, she felt three-fingered hands moving down her body, heard a familiar soft voice…

“April…”

Suddenly arms were around her, lifting her from the bed and then gently placing her back against the pillows. April blinked blearily up at the green face over her.

“Sorry,” Don said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. But you were about to roll off the bed.”

“Don?” April said, still fuzzy with sleep. 

He smiled down at her, a little sadly. “You should go back to sleep,” he said, holding her hand.

But April was already sitting up, brushing her disheveled hair out of her face. “Don — I have to talk to you about something,” she said.

He seemed to flinch. “I know.”

“You — you know?”

“I saw you talking to Casey, April.” He added hastily, “I didn’t hear anything — I wasn’t listening in or anything. But I saw you together from my room.”

April’s eyes widened. So he had seen her hug Casey — a hug that had probably gone on too long — and had come to the wrong conclusion. He thought that she was spurning him for Casey. That what they had had experienced together, felt together, hadn’t been enough for her to fall in love with him. It probably hadn’t taken much for him to believe that she would choose her ex-boyfriend over him, after she had already voiced her concerns about getting into a relationship with him.

And looking at him now hurt her heart. Sadness was trickling through his face, despite his best efforts to keep it from showing. His broad shoulders were slumped slightly, and his voice sounded slightly husky. He had clearly been preparing himself for this moment for a long time, but it was still hurting him to talk about it.

“Don,” April said softly, pressing her hand to his cheek. “Let me explain what you saw—“

“It’s all right, April,” Don said, summoning a sickly smile, but casting down his dark eyes. “Casey is the logical choice for you — he’s your own kind, he can give you a life I never could, and he loves you. He loves you — a lot. I understand completely, and I’m all right with it.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll just be our baby’s father, no more. ”

April raised her other hand to his shoulder, pulling him closer to her body. “Don,” she said quietly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Silence fell over the room. She felt Don stiffen against her, saw his eyes widen in shock at what she had said to him. His hands came up almost automatically to grip her arms, and he pulled her closer still without even seeming to realize it. The misery in his eyes was suddenly eclipsed by something else — an almost reluctant flash of happiness — and he stared at her with hope blooming across his face. Hope, and confusion.

April leaned forward, resting her forehead against Don’s. She desperately wanted to pin him down and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. She wanted to kiss him until they both saw stars. She wanted to love him fiercely, passionately. But she couldn’t do that — after all he had been through, she wouldn’t touch him unless he told her that he wanted it.

“Please,” she said softly. “Kiss me.”

Don gave her a strangely bittersweet smile, but he didn’t need to be told a third time. Suddenly his lips were on hers, moving with greater surety and less clumsiness than he had last time, his wider tongue deftly entwining with hers as she pushed deeper into the kiss.

Don’s hands slowly roamed over her body, and eventually settled in place, one resting lightly against the small of her back, and the other between her shoulder blades. He was strong enough that she felt almost weightless, as if he were lifting her without even meaning to. Her hands rose to rest on the lip of his shell, her hands clinging to it tightly, as if afraid that he was going to slip away if she didn’t hold on to him. And she was pulling him closer, closer.

Clutching at his shell, April inched her lower body closer to Don’s. Her robe slipped aside, as she moved her bare legs around his muscular thighs. She could feel him stiffen at the more intimate touch, and waited until he relaxed again to draw him against her. 

He broke their kiss with a gasp. “A—April,” he said breathlessly. “Is this what you really want?”

She took a few deep breaths, her lips burning where Don had touched them. “Of course it is,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Why are you even asking?”

He didn’t answer. He just kissed her again, more tenderly than before, his thick fingers running over her hair. When he had kissed her before, there had been a feeling of desperation that had driven him to act that way — if he hadn’t been hurting, April knew he would never have embraced her. But that desperation was gone now, and there was only the slow-burning passion that had quietly driven him for as long as he had known her. It was a relief to April — if he had still not been healed enough, she might have hesitated. Waited. And she didn’t want to wait.

She began sinking backwards, into the nest of pillows and blankets, pulling Donnie along with her. When she stopped moving, she was lying on a woolen afghan with her head resting against some pillows. Don was poised above her, her legs wound around his hips, his face looking down at hers with an expression so painfully, exquisitely loving that it took her breath away. He moved down into her arms, capturing her lips in one last kiss as — 

— something metal clattered out in the lair.

Every muscle in April’s body seemed to lock up, and Don’s face suddenly went completely blank. Both of their faces turned towards the doorway — that had sounded like one of Leo’s swords being dropped. In fact, that was probably exactly what had happened.

And April was just now remembering that her room didn’t have a door. At all. The doorway was just a hexagonal hole in the wall, the same as it was for the Turtles’ bedrooms. Don’s brothers could probably hear everything that was going on in her room — every moan, every gasp… and if they continued on their current path, every cry. 

April felt her cheeks flush at the idea that Don’s brothers knew what they were doing — and worse, had probably heard them. Don had probably been thinking the same thing. He uttered a pained groan and slumped towards her, burying his face in her shoulder.

“I know,” April said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry…”

She uncoiled her legs from his body, and gently rolled him onto his side. Don uttered another groan and threw an arm over her, as if unwilling to give up contact entirely. April could sympathize with his frustration — she almost wished that Leo hadn’t dropped that sword, so she and Don could simply have consummated their feelings. Even if it would have been horribly embarrassing later on, and she probably wouldn’t be able to look his family in the eye for at least a month.

“How can we—“ Don began to say.

April shushed him, and gently pressed her lips to his. When she broke the kiss, she whispered, “Meet me at the Battle Shell at nine tonight.”

He stared at her blankly, probably wondering if she planned to make love in the Battle Shell rather than in her own, far more comfortable bed. But then he sighed and swung his legs off the bed, and slipped out into the lair, looking unfulfilled and crestfallen. 

April let her head fall back against the pillow, and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donatello: "WHY CAN'T THE UNIVERSE JUST LET ME HAVE CONSENSUAL SEX?!"
> 
> As always, reviews are cherished and treasured.


	56. The Private Place

She slipped away from the Turtles at just after eight-thirty, wrapping herself in a thick coat and slinging a heavy messenger bag over her shoulder. The elevator deposited her in the dilapidated warehouse that the Turtles used as the Battle Shell’s garage, and she leaned against the armored car as she waited for Don to arrive. Her heart was racing, and her stomach was fluttering so hard that she found herself wondering if her baby was kicking her.

She had to be crazy. Despite her talk with Casey, April couldn’t stop herself from remembering that she was here for a romantic encounter with a seventeen-year-old. Then again, she reflected, she was already pregnant by the seventeen-year-old, so how much worse could it get? Don wasn’t a normal teenage in every way that mattered, and his feelings for her were much more than a boyish crush.

Still, she couldn’t back down now. She had already done everything but make love to Don, and on the brink of doing that, she found that she wanted this as much as he did. Her nerves were just that — nerves, she told herself sternly. She had already gone past these concerns when she had ordered him to kiss her.

The other three Turtles had been odd with her all afternoon — Mikey had been teasing, only to be shut down by Raph, and Leo had made an effort to be friendly. But April could just imagine them lurking near the TVs, hearing the sound of their brother gasping and wordlessly moaning, growing more embarrassed and terrified with every passing moment. No wonder Leo had grown flustered enough to drop a sword. She was probably lucky that they hadn’t misinterpreted the sounds they heard and assumed that Donnie was having a heart attack.

Her heart jumped as the elevator rose through the floor, a massive aqua egg-shaped vehicle that glimmered with strange light. When the doors parted, Don stepped out, his face solemn and clear-eyed, looking straight at her as if nothing else existed. In the faint light of the elevator’s crystals, he looked like a jade statue come to life.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly, moving to the passenger side of the Battle Shell.

Don buckled himself in behind the wheel, and looked toward her. “So where are we going?”

“My apartment.”

He stiffened, his fingers grasping the wheel. “Is that a good idea?” he said slowly.

“It’s the only place we can have some privacy,” April said. “Besides, the ones who attacked us there are gone, Don. We’ll be safe.”

She saw the unease in his eyes, intense enough that they glittered in the faint light. But desire seemed to win out over fear, and he started the engine, opened the warehouse’s door, and drove out into the cold night. Icy stars glowed above them, and the nearly-full moon hung low overhead like a paper lantern hung from the night sky. It was a beautiful night, and the emptiness of the streets made it feel like it had been made for just the two of them.

Silence had settled between them, and for some reason that bothered April. Tonight she didn’t want any distance between herself and Donnie — she wanted to hear his voice even when he was focusing on something other than her. So she shifted in the seat beside him, resting a hand on his arm.

“Don, doesn’t it ever bother you that you and your brothers don’t have much privacy? I mean, you have your separate rooms, but they don’t have doors, and almost every other part of the lair is shared between the five of you.”

“I’m used to it,” Don said with a slight smile. “Growing up, we all lived in one large room together, so we never had much privacy. Having my own room is the most I’ve ever had. We used to sleep on two sets of bunk beds — I always slept next to Raph and under Mikey.” He glanced over at her. “But I guess I need some more privacy now, for — for this.”

April smiled at him. One of his hands dropped from the wheel and slipped easily around her smaller one, as if reassuring himself that she was still there even when his eyes were on the road. She was glad for the touch — it settled her fluttering stomach, and her anxieties about what she was doing seemed to melt away. If she had been sitting closer to him, she would have rested her head on his shoulder, breathed in his scent.

The Battle Shell slowed as they approached the 2nd Time Around store, and April felt Don’s hand spasm slightly at the sight of it. It made sense, she thought — he had only been out of the lair once in the last three months, and this place held bad memories for him. She lightly stroked his fingers with her own as they turned into the alley, then reluctantly separated their hands as she stepped out and fumbled with her keys.

The store was almost pitch-black, but April was able to navigate her way to the staircase, and she could hear Don moving just behind her. When her foot caught on one of the steps, she felt his arm move around her waist to steady her.

She had been in the apartment almost every day she worked, mostly for her lunch break. But Don hadn’t been back since their abduction, and she could feel the tension radiating from him as they moved up into her living room. He paused in the middle of the room, looking slowly around — at the windows that had been broken, at the stairs he had been dragged down. His face was devoid of expression, but April could see his hesitance shining in his eyes.

She turned back toward him and took his hands. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’ll be fine. Come with me.”

She moved back towards her bedroom door, pulling him toward it. The room was dark, except for a pool of moonlight streaming from the window, but April felt her heart quickening as she saw the shape of her bed against the wall. Thank God she had put fresh sheets on it a few weeks ago, and hadn’t slept there in even longer. And suddenly her mind was full of what was to come — Don’s flesh, his hands clutching her close, his voice uttering breathless, wordless exclamations…

With slightly trembling hands, she reached into her bag and pulled out some pillar candles that Splinter had lent her — thankfully without asking why she wanted them. A scratch of the match, and a flame lit the room with a dancing, flickering light that whispered of witchery. She quickly lit the wicks, and looked around at the faint, golden light that now suffused her bedroom.

She wanted this to be special — for Don. He deserved nothing less after everything that had happened to him.

He was still standing nervously behind her, his hands clasped in front of him as he watched her almost ritualistic preparations. When April turned around, she took his hands again and drew him down onto the edge of her bed.

“Lie down,” she said softly.

Don did as she said, moving back onto his carapace and watching her with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. April slid her fingers under the bend of his knee, and began carefully untying the leather strings that held his kneepad in place. When one slipped loose from his leg, she moved to the other and painstakingly repeated the action, keeping her eyes fixed on his the entire time. Every touch of his skin, every flicker of expression made her heart throb, and she could see that Don felt the same way.

After drawing off the kneepads, she slid her fingers up his thighs, caressing the strong muscles there, before moving up his sides. Don seemed to know what she was going to do next, and raised his arms slightly so she could untie the elbow pads. She smiled as she untied the knots there, and pulled the pads down over his hands. Then she began unwrapping the bindings that he wore on his wrists, until his arms were completely bare.

But she wasn’t finished. She leaned down and breathed softly on Don’s exposed wrists, before touching her lips to the thin skin there. She heard him draw in a breath.

Next, she moved back down to his belt, knotted snugly around his lower abdomen. He lay still as she worked with the knot, but raised himself slightly as she finished, allowing her to slip it out from under him. She lowered her head again towards his belly, letting her lips linger on the scutes there, and the thin lines that separated them. She felt his abdomen rising and falling more quickly as she ran a line of kisses up towards his chest, pressing her hands against him to keep him still.

Finally, April reached behind his head, and unknotted the mask that she had only rarely seen him without. Tonight, she wanted to see his eyes, unencumbered by the mask. Tonight, she didn’t want the ninja in her bed, but Don himself, free of everything that else weighed on him.

He remained still as she pulled it from his face, and let it slip to the floor beside his belt and his pads. His eyes were as bright as stars, apparently enjoying this slow, sensual attention.

Now it was her own turn. April rose from the bed, and let her coat slide to the floor. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled the turtleneck over her head, and felt cool air seeping over her breasts and slightly curving stomach. Don made a faint sound at the sight, but was silent by the time she had removed the shirt. He was staring intently at her, his eyes unblinking, as if trying to memorize every detail of her body.

But as she slithered out of her pants, working them down her legs, April saw a flicker of pain cross his face. “What’s wrong?” she said.

“Sorry, I just — you looked like you did — the other time,” he said.

April sat down beside him, the candlelight dancing over her pale skin. “This isn’t going to be like the last time,” she said soothingly. “This time, no one is making us do anything.” Her forehead crinkled. “If anything I do reminds you of — of what happened before, tell me and I’ll stop. I don’t want this to bring back bad memories for you, Donnie. This time, we both want it, and—“ She caressed his cheek. “—and we have all night.”

His hands slithered up her bare back, warm and solid, and pulled her close enough for a kiss — slow and intimate, but growing more heated with every passing second. April slid down on top of him, the chill in the room forgotten as Don warmed her, stoking a fire inside her with every movement and touch. How could she have tried to turn away from this? she thought feverishly. All thought of his age, his past trauma melted away.

But then suddenly he drew back, looking slightly alarmed. “This won’t hurt the baby, will it?”

“Of course not,” April said, sliding her arm around the back of his neck to draw him closer. “The baby will be just fine. It probably won’t even notice.”

“And… April, I — I have to tell you something,” he said. Even in the dim light, he looked embarrassed.

“Mmm?” April said, nuzzling the side of his neck.

“I’m — I’m different from human males.”

“I’ve noticed,” April said, smiling.

“I mean, my genitalia are different, and I don’t want you to be—“

“How are they different?” April asked.

Don looked unnerved. “Size — color — shape —“ he said slowly.

April sighed, and rested her head beside his on the pillow. “Don, we’re compatible enough to conceive a baby,” she said softly. “We were sexually intimate before — there’s no reason for any of those things to bother me now.”

“I just didn’t want you to be alarmed…”

Her lips clung to his like dew on a leaf. When they stopped for breath, she smiled softly at him and pressed a hand to his cheek. “I won’t be. Just do what comes naturally, and I promise I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel quite right.” She gently stroked a thumb along his cheek, losing herself in the dark pools of his eyes. “I want you to make love to me, Don. Please. I’ve already wasted so much time, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Don didn’t need any more urging. His muscled arms folded around her, holding her snugly to his plastron. At the same time, April felt him shifting onto his side, gently pressing her into the bed as he ran his lips along her jawline. When he was finished, April was lying on her back, with him poised above her, his eyes wide and full of moonlight. She could have watched his face forever; she raised a hand to touch it, wanting to draw him down toward her.

And then they were together, and nothing else mattered.


	57. Making Love

They made love long into the night, so long that April lost track of time. They made love as if the world outside the bedroom had simply faded away, and there was nothing but the two of them entwined together, embracing in a halo of candlelight.

Sometimes it was soft and sweet, all brushed caresses and whispers of each other’s names in breathless voices. Sometimes it was slow and intense, with building, mounting swells of pleasure welling up inside their bodies. Sometimes it was achingly quiet and intimate, their ragged breath the only sound to be heard. And occasionally it was fierce, almost frenzied, with heat coursing through them like electricity crackling through their blood.

Every cry of pleasure, every gasp and moan made April’s heart swell, and she held Don even tighter as their bodies moved together. She loved the sound of him as they made love — she loved the fact that she could make him cry out in a way that nothing else could.

And as they had made love, she had seen his expression — his eyes. That look of haunting sadness had melted away, leaving only a luminous joy in its place, a joy that grew brighter and more beautiful with every moan, whisper and touch. Ecstasy. Euphoria.

The sight of it took her breath away, even as it caused an ache to form in her heart. This was what Don had been hiding from her for so long — this radiance, this exquisite light that shone from him whenever she touched him. He had been so afraid that she would reject his feelings — reject him — that he had tucked his love away in a corner of his soul, never intending to tell her. Now she had accepted him in every way, with both her heart and her body, and he was looking at her with such exquisite happiness that she regretted not giving him that joy earlier.

When April finally collapsed into Don’s arms, spent and exhausted, he cradled her against his body, whispering her name over and over as if it were the only word he knew. His breath stirred her hair, washed over her face. She pressed her hands to his plastron, and curled her legs around his stockier ones, their thighs pressed against each other’s. She could feel warm trickles of sweat on both their bodies, as she clung to him and he caressed her back, her throat, her face.

She felt worn to a thread, as if she had been running a marathon rather than in bed with a mutant turtle. She probably could have guessed that his stamina — like his strength and physical endurance — was greater than that of a human, because he didn’t seem tired at all. Or perhaps it was just that he was seventeen. He probably could have continued for at least a few more hours, if April hadn’t been so exhausted.

It was all right, she reminded herself. This night — this beautiful, passionate night — was the beginning of her time with Don, and the end of it wouldn’t signal the end of them. They would have the next night, and the next, and countless nights after that to explore each other, love each other. They would find a way — some way — to be alone together.

Then she heard his voice, almost imperceptibly, whispering, “I love you.”

April gasped a few more breaths before she whispered back, “That’s — the first time — you said that to me…”

“It is?” Don said, looking at her in confusion.

April smiled. “You showed it, but you didn’t say it. Tell me again.”

His eyes almost glowed as he looked at her, and his face softened. “I love you,” he said softly.

“Again… please…”

“I love you,” Don whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I love you so much that it — it hurts. I can’t describe it — I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” April said softly. “Don’t try. It’s enough that I know, Donnie.”

She kissed him gently, nestling deeper into his arms, feeling the throbbing warmth inside her beginning to fade. She could already feel sleep inexorably tugging her down into darkness, but she couldn’t let herself drift off without telling him drowsily, “I love you too — more than I ever thought I could —“ The last thing she felt was his head resting beside hers, and his thick fingers caressing her face.

When she woke, she was alone in the bed, wrapped in her comforter. Even without looking, she could tell that no one was lying beside her. Her arm was flung out across the empty space beside her, which was cool to the touch, as if no one had lain there on that particular night.

She bit her lip, and it flashed through her mind that the previous night with Don had just been another of her erotic dreams about him — an unusually vivid and long dream, but a dream nonetheless. Her heart clenched at the idea that he hadn’t been there after all, and she felt her skin tingle where she had felt his touch.

She sat up slowly in the dark, brushing a few locks of hair from her eyes. Then she saw him, a shadowy figure standing in a pool of moonlight by the window, his hands resting on the sill, his face upturned towards the sky. Her heart lurched, and for a moment she wondered if he had been seen by someone down in the street below.

He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and didn’t even seem to hear the rustle of blankets and sheets as April sat up in bed. “Donnie?” she called out softly.

He looked back, and a soft smile crossed his face.

“Come back to bed,” April said, patting the space beside her.

A moment later, he was sliding into bed beside her, and she gratefully took her place in his arms again. He smelled of musk and night air, and she buried her face against his shoulder for a moment. There was something comforting about being held by him — the feeling of strength surrounding her, enfolding her. His hands were calloused from countless hours of wielding his bo and handling his tools, and the slight roughness of his skin was a pleasant reminder of who was touching her.

Then she looked up into his face, and saw that he was looking at her with the same awe he had shown when he saw her naked for the first time. Their eyes met, and he smiled softly.

“I never thought this would happen to me,” he said quietly.

“With me, you mean?”

“Ever. With anyone,” Don said, stroking her loose hair. “When I was thirteen, Master Splinter explained sexuality to us, just so we would understand the feelings we were starting to have. He also told us… he said that we would probably never experience it ourselves, because we were so different from humans. That at best, humans wouldn’t find us attractive. Even worse, they might be… repelled by us.”

April closed her eyes and hugged him tighter. She knew that Splinter was a good father, and was simply trying to prepare his sons for the hurdles they would encounter in life. He was being a realist, knowing that the Turtles wouldn’t be accepted by most humans — they were seen as freaks or monsters by too many. But she hated to think of them hearing, at such a tender, impressionable age, that they would probably never find anyone who could love them for their hearts rather than their bodies.

“So I never thought,” Don said softly, “that anyone would ever make love to me — that anyone would be willing to, let alone want to.”

“Is that,” April said quietly, “why you looked so sad after we mated in the cell?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking of how repulsed you must be by my body, by having a mutant inside you, and by the things Racer was making you do. I didn’t want you to feel that way about me.”

“I never would,” April said fiercely. Her fingers traced the curving lines of his face, before locking behind his neck and pulling his head towards hers. “Don, even when I didn’t love you yet — when I didn’t realize how you felt about me — I was never repulsed by you. To me, everything you are — everything you have — is Don. Just Don.”

He gazed at her with eyes that echoed of the joy she had seen when they had made love… and something else was there, a hint of sadness. It was only there for a second, but it was enough. April didn’t know why it existed, or why Don would feel any sadness after what they had just experienced. It had been so pure, so luminous, bringing them closer than April had ever been with anyone before.

She pressed a hand to his face, her fingers stroking his smooth skin. “Don, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I just — never want this night to end,” he said quietly, pressing a hand to hers. “I want to be here like this — with you — for as long as possible. I don’t want to be apart from you…”

“You won’t be,” April said softly, letting her lips cling to his face. “And we can make the night a little longer if you want.” She suddenly wanted to drive that sadness from his eyes, to see him as he had been before. She wanted him to feel that transcendent joy again, no matter how tired she had been.

Slowly, so he could pull away if he wanted to, she pulled him into a kiss that grew more intense, more heated, with every passing second. He returned the kiss with the hesitant eagerness of someone still learning the proper technique, his fingers tangling in her red hair. Her fingers pulled at the edge of his shell, drawing him closer to her, before trickling down to caress his broad shoulders and his throat.

Then his breath caught as her legs slipped around his thighs, guiding him closer to her. “I love you, April,” he whispered again.

April smiled. She could see that radiance in his eyes again, as Don lost himself in their entwined bodies. “And I love you,” she whispered back.


	58. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a shorter chapter this time, but it was really difficult to write for some reason.

When Don opened his eyes, the moonlight had faded from April’s bedroom window. A pale glow was emanating behind the city skyline, blotting out the stars as it became brighter. The sun was going to rise soon, and the previous night would be nothing more than a memory.

Don looked at April, who was still nestled in his arms, her hand resting against his plastron and her head on the pillow beside his. She had fallen asleep just after they finished making love, too worn out by the long night they had shared to stay awake any longer. And Don had held her as she slept, listening to the sound of her breathing and feeling the gentle thump of her heartbeat, his hands keeping her close to him as she dreamed.

His heart felt like it was overflowing. She had said it. She had told him that she loved him the night before, more than once — which had been something that he had always wanted to hear from her, but he had never actually thought she would say it. At least, not in the way he wanted — over the last few years, Don had reluctantly contemplated that she might say that she loved him like a brother, or as a very close friend. Not as a lover. 

But she had said it. Twice. “I love you.”

And she had shown him that love, rather than simply saying it with words. It had been her idea to sneak away from the lair and hide themselves in her apartment, far from the eyes and ears of Splinter and his brothers. She had led him to her bed, divested him of his gear, and made a show of undressing herself. And she had welcomed him into her body, asking him to make love to her as quickly as possible. He would never forget the look in her green eyes as she had asked that.

And April was so, so beautiful. She had lain on the bed before him like some forgotten Celtic goddess, her alabaster skin dewy with sweat, her breasts heaving, her red hair spread across the pillow like tongues of flame. 

Don looked at her sleeping face, and gently pulled her closer to him, making sure not to wake her. He didn’t want the night to end. When it ended, he and April would have to wake up, rise from this bed, and… and…

And what?

He wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was for this kind of situation; his only knowledge of romantic relationships came from television, and they weren’t always reflective of the truth. Did this mean that they were in a relationship now? April hadn’t made that clear the night before, when she had brought him here — she had said that she wanted him, that she loved him, but not what her plans were for… afterwards.

And there was something else — a fear percolating in his mind, despite the fresh memories of April whispering that she loved him. That after last night, even after expressing her feelings for him, April would gravitate back to Casey Jones. No matter how much Don loved her, or believed she loved him, he knew that he was still the less wise choice — a sewer-dwelling mutant who couldn’t offer her a future or a life out in the light of day. Even with a child together, he could offer her only his love.

Still, she had said she loved him, and she had spent the entire night in his arms. And he was grateful — even if she did leave him for Casey, she had given him this one perfect, exquisite night to remember all his life. One night in which his wildest dreams had come true.

He lay in silence for a long time, listening to April’s breathing and treasuring every moment he held her, touched her, cradled her against his heart. Her delicate features, her porcelain skin, her soft red hair, the curves of her slender body outlined in the golden morning sun. As far as he was concerned, she was perfect. Or as close to perfect as someone could be.

Just then, she nestled closer to him, murmuring something incoherent and clutching at his plastron. Don raised a hand to her cheek and stroked it, until her eyelids fluttered open. 

“Don?” she whispered.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling.

Her eyes were wide and full of light as she reached for him, and pulled him into a long intoxicating kiss. Then she snuggled down beside him, resting her hand against his chest.

“Did you get any sleep?” she murmured.

“Not much,” Don replied. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to sleep, and not just because he didn’t want to miss a moment with April. It was because of a fear gnawing in the back of his mind — fear that he would have one of his nightmares, tainting the entire beautiful night. The last thing he needed was to think about Racer and what he had done. 

He especially didn’t want to think about Racer because the last night with April had been the complete opposite in every way. Racer’s rape had left him feeling broken, torn apart, raw — something had been taken from him that he still didn’t know if he would ever regain. It had been about power, about pain, about loss. 

But the night before had been all about giving. April had given him love, tenderness and physical pleasure so intense it had nearly been painful, and he had tried to give her the same in return. For the first time in months, he had been happy without reservation or memory of what had been done to him, all because of her. He felt almost as though some part of him had been healed by her touch, as if she had removed a contamination from his body. 

April seemed to sense his thoughts, because she pressed her lips to Don’s cheek. “I wish last night had been your first time, Donnie,” she said softly.

“It was, in the ways that mattered,” he whispered.

A faint smile came to her lips at hearing that, and he felt her arms slip around his shoulders to draw them closer together. His own arms pulled her close, until her head was resting against his shoulder and her legs were tangled around his. He closed his eyes and turned towards her, enjoying the closeness, the warmth of her presence, the touch of her hand, her lips. It was an intimacy he had never experienced with anyone else. It was almost like the feeling he had had when he and April were alone in his lab late at night, finishing each other’s sentences and attuned to each other’s thoughts. Only this was stronger — much stronger — and he craved more of it. 

A part of him wanted to stay in this bed all day, and let the world take care of itself while he stayed close to April, reminding her how he loved her. He knew that he couldn’t — he had to contact Leatherhead, and he needed to let his brothers know that he was all right. But for now, he just wanted to immerse himself in April.

“April,” he said softly.

“Yes?”

“Was I — any good?”

“You were great,” April said softly, draping her arm across his plastron, gently stroking her fingers over his side. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but I thought you were amazing.”

Don wasn’t capable of blushing the way a human was — especially one with the pale translucent skin April had — but if he were, he suspected he would have done just that. It was a relief to know that he had pleased her, that his efforts to return everything she had given him hadn’t been in vain. He raised one of his hands to link his fingers with her softer, smaller ones, and pressed them to the spot where he knew his heart beat. 

“We should probably get back to the lair soon,” April murmured, nestling against his chest. “The others will start worrying if we take much longer.”

“In a minute,” Don said, wanting this peaceful little idyll to last just a little longer. He still wanted the intimacy that he had felt with her, the connection — and some part of him felt that when the spell was broken, he would have lost that.

“In a minute,” April said, just before she captured his lips in another kiss.


	59. Returning Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is both late and not very good, I must have rewritten this fifteen times.

It was just before nine o’clock when Raph saw Don slip away from his lab, looking around himself as he headed towards the elevator. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be followed from the way he was moving, his footsteps silent and his movements keeping with the shadows. The aqua doors parted to let him inside the glowing, crystal-powered chamber, then slid back together, hiding him from sight.

It wasn’t like Donnie to sneak out without the rest of them. He was the sensible laid-back one… unless some kind of problem, like a Mouser, piqued his interest. Raph stepped out from behind the pillar he had been hiding behind, and rubbed his hand against the knot of his mask.

He started to move toward the elevator, intending to follow Donnie and make sure he was okay. Raph still hadn’t forgiven himself for not saving Don from the Purple Dragons before — if he went out into the night alone and got hurt somehow —

But as he passed Don’s lab, Raph saw something flutter on his table — a piece of white paper, propped up against his computer monitor. He snatched it up and looked at the few lines scribbled there, all in Don’s handwriting.

 

TO EVERYONE:  
Gone with April. Will be back in the morning. Don’t worry about me.  
—DON

 

For a few minutes, Raph stared at the note, his heart racing in his ears. For a moment, he was tempted to race over to the elevator and follow Don to the surface, before he and April could vanish into the night. She was pregnant, and he had only just started venturing out of his home. There were still plenty of dangers out there, like Hun, the Foot, Agent Bishop. If anything happened to them — to the baby —

But on the other hand, the phrase “gone with April” made him hesitate. Raph had been been training with Leo early that afternoon when muffled gasps and moans had suddenly started coming from April’s room — ones that sounded like April and Don. Raph hadn’t known what to do. Should they leave the lair until the two of them had, um, finished? Should they just try to blot out the noise and pretend nothing was happening?

Leo had had an almost comical expression of horror on his face as he realized what Don and April were doing. One of his katana slipped from his hands, clattering loudly, and the noises from upstairs had ceased. Raph had breathed a sigh of relief, but he had also felt a sudden burst of guilt — the last thing he wanted was to stand in Don’s way, especially if April was finally willing to love him the way he deserved. 

Which was also why they were sneaking off. They wanted to be alone, and they could only really do that by leaving. 

Raph grimaced. Every fiber of his being told him to go take the Shell-Cycle and track the two of them down, just to make sure they were safe. Just to make sure nothing interrupted their little tryst. He wanted Don to have the privacy he clearly wanted with April — he wanted Don to be happy — but he also knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to them. 

What should he do? The note crinkled in his hand as his fingers closed around it, as if he could delay them by just a few minutes by entrapping Don’s farewell note.

“You are troubled, my son.”

Raph nearly jumped out of his shell at the soft, calm voice coming from behind him. He sometimes forgot that his father was also a ninja, and that he could move more quietly than a breeze. When he turned, he found Splinter’s quiet hazel eyes watching him patiently, his gray brows raised slightly.

“Master Splinter,” Raph said quickly. “Donnie — he —“

“Has left, I know,” Splinter said soothingly. “So has Miss O’Neil.”

“I’ll go after ‘em. It ain’t safe for them to be goin’ around by themselves at night.”

“Why?”

The question momentarily stumped Raph. “W-why?” he repeated. “‘Cause of what happened — if someone attacked them again — the Foot or Agent Bishop — “

“We cannot shield them every moment of every day, Raphael,” Splinter said gently, placing a hand on Raph’s shoulder. “Donatello will always have the support and love of his brothers, but he must stand on his own feet when it is called for. He is capable of taking care of himself. Remember, he is a ninja, and soon to be a father.”

Raph felt himself wilt slightly, and his eyes looked hopelessly at the crumpled paper clutched in his hand. “Master Splinter…” he started to say, knowing already that his father was right.

“And you must learn that none of what happened was your fault, Raphael,” Splinter added gently. “You have tried to avenge Donatello ever since his return, but your feelings of guilt are misplaced. There was nothing you could have done. He does not blame you, and neither do I.” He patted Raphael’s shell lightly. “Now, it would be best if you went to bed, my son, and left Donatello to his time with April. I will inform Leonardo and Michelangelo of his departure.”

“Yes, Master,” Raph mumbled.

As he left the lab area, Raph snatched up Don’s laptop and hugged it to his chest. Brainiac wouldn’t have any use for it this evening, so he might as well get some work done. He glanced back at the aqua doors, wondering where Donnie and April were going — he was already sure he knew exactly what they were doing. He didn’t want to imagine it, but he knew.

His bedroom was sparsely furnished compared to those of his brothers, even Leo — it was mostly filled with things that interested him, from sports equipment to old trophies, from movie posters to another punching bag. It was something he treasured after fifteen years of sleeping close to his brothers, all in the same room, with no privacy. It was a space uniquely his.

He slid into his hammock and let his legs hang over the sides, as he placed the laptop on his stomach and opened it. A pale blue glow filled the dark room as he began typing in familiar Internet addresses.

He dozed off sometime after midnight, still clutching the laptop to his chest, his sleep filled with uneasy dreams about Don. In his dreams, his brother was trying to head to the surface to meet April, but Raph knew that the Foot was up there waiting to ambush him, and he couldn’t convince Don that they were waiting to attack. Finally Raph and Leo went ahead of him, easily dispatching all the ninja that were waiting for their brother. But April was there, her pregnant belly much larger than it had been the day before, and suddenly she cried out… 

Raph was still tense when he opened his eyes, staring at the high stone ceiling above him. He groaned and rubbed at his sandy eyes, wishing he hadn’t been on the computer so late into the night. Was this how Don felt all the time?

As he stiffly made his way out of his room, he saw that his brothers were already awake. Leo was watching the news with Master Splinter, his face set in a frown as he listened to the newscaster. Mikey was heading into the kitchen, dragging that cat of his with him. 

And Don…

Don was sitting at his computer in his lab, as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. But as Raph approached him, he sensed something a little different in his brother’s demeanor — he seemed lighter, more relaxed than he had been the day before. His shoulders weren’t so tense, and he was smiling slightly as he tinkered with some little metal doodad that Raph couldn’t even start to identify.

As he came closer, Don glanced up at him, and removed his goggles. 

“Donnie!” Raph said. “When’d you get back?”

“Just a half hour ago,” Don said easily. “April’s in the kitchen, and Mikey’s making her breakfast. She’s craving eggs again.”

“Maybe we should get a chicken if she keeps eatin’ like this,” Raph said.

Don smiled at that, and Raph felt something inside him unknot at the sight. He hadn’t realized that he had become so used to seeing Don tangled up in trauma and misery, his eyes shadowed by the pain he had experienced. Even when he became used to April’s pregnancy, it had been a source of fear for him. But now — at least for the moment — he seemed somewhat at peace, his eyes shining and his face relaxed.

Raph leaned against the table, feeling a momentary prick of guilt that he had almost stopped or delayed Don’s tryst with April. If he had gone out there and tracked them down on the Shell Cycle, Don probably wouldn’t be in the state he was now. And though Raph knew that a roll in the hay wasn’t going to fix all Don’s problems, right now it was enough for Don to have a little peace, temporarily.

“Is that my laptop?” Don asked.

Raph glanced down at the computer folded under his arm. “Uh, yeah. I was just bringin’ it back.” 

“What were you using it for?” Don said dubiously. 

Raph wasn’t surprised that his brother was curious — he was more physical than intellectual, and he didn’t do much with computers when there was a genius there to do it for him. He knew how to use a computer just fine, but sometimes he suspected his family had forgotten that he could because he did it so infrequently.

Don was still watching him curiously, so Raph shrugged. “Needed to look some stuff up.” He placed it firmly on the desk beside Don’s desktop computer. 

For a moment he thought Don was going to pursue it further, but instead his brother set the gadget he was tinkering with down, and reached for a massive toolbox that he had slid under the table. “Do you have some time to help me out with a project, Raph?”

“Sure, Donnie,” Raph said, not quite sure what he was needed for. “What are you makin’?”

Don smiled at him with a hint of mischief. “A door.”


	60. The Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not updating as often lately, but my personal life has been kinda chaotic, since a relative is dying. I'll try to update more frequently.

“Donatello, April — I wish to speak to you both.”

Splinter’s voice was quiet, yet it seemed to ring out across the lair like a bell ringing. Don felt a shiver run through him at that tone — his father only used it when had something important to say, usually something critical. It usually came directly before a lecture or a reprimand — often an embarrassing one, if he wanted to teach all four a lesson at once.

His stomach contracted. Was his father upset that he had made love to April? If he was, Don wouldn’t lie — he didn’t regret it at all. It had been the most magical night of his entire life, and he had never felt closer to April than he had in her arms. 

Perhaps Splinter was upset that Don had sneaked out rather than notifying his family of what he was doing. But he knew that if he had, it would have only made everything more complicated and embarrassing — not just that he was telling his family about his intimacy with April, but the fact that he suspected they wouldn’t let him go alone. Raph especially would probably insist on tailing them, just to be sure that nothing happened to them.

Those questions swirled in Don’s head as he stepped into his father’s chamber, with April a step behind him. He knelt down immediately, and after a moment of hesitation she did as he had. She smoothed her shirt over her stomach, as if reassuring herself that the baby was still there, and then folded her hands neatly in her lap. Her green eyes met his, full of questions he couldn’t yet answer.

Splinter sat in front of a low table, with a stick of incense burning in a carved stone burner. His face was grave, but he didn’t look angry — just serious and contemplative. Maybe things weren’t as bad as Don had feared…

“It has come to my attention that the two of you have begun an intimate relationship,” Splinter said in a measured voice. 

“Yes, Master,” Don said, his hands clenching on his thighs.

“I am not here to forbid your… closeness, Donatello,” Splinter said more gently. “But you must exercise caution.”

Don wasn’t entirely sure what kind of caution his father was urging. April was already pregnant, after all. Or was he worried about the emotional fallout that might come about if things didn’t work out between them? Don’s fingers curled into his palms at the thought.

“First, caution in your movements,” Splinter continued. “You both departed from the lair last night without informing myself or the other Turtles. This was not wise, but I know that you both had your reasons for desiring privacy. And I trusted you to be able to take care of both of you, Donatello.” He sighed. “Still, the Purple Dragons are still abroad, and Sarkis must not learn of April’s pregnancy.”

Almost without his awareness, Don moved his hand to April’s, and tightly enclosed hers in his. He hadn’t even thought of that — that Sarkis might still be searching for their baby, and that he might have found them during their rendezvous. The idea sent an icy chill through him, and a fierce surge of protectiveness for his child and April. 

“Second,” Splinter said at last, looking stern. “There is the matter of Donatello’s training.”

“His training?” April said.

“Yes. I have taught Donatello ninjutsu since he was barely more than an infant, and he has learned a great deal along with his brothers.” Splinter looked at both of them in the eyes, one after the other. “I do not wish for this romantic relationship to disrupt his training.”

“It won’t!” April blurted out.

“We won’t, sensei,” Don said, squeezing her hand. “We both know how important it is.”

Splinter smiled slightly, and reached out to touch both of their shoulders. “That is good, my son. You are both young, and your feelings for one another should be cultivated and encouraged. But it would not do to neglect other parts of your lives at the same time.”

“We know,” April said softly. “I won’t distract Don from his ninjutsu, or his family.”

“You are a part of our family, April,” Splinter said warmly.

April looked at Don, and he felt his heart clench at the uncertainty in her eyes. But he felt her slender fingers slipping between his thicker ones, gripping his hand tightly against her knee. She drew him closer to her and lightly touched her lips to his, her other hand brushing against his face, and he felt warmth briefly ripple through his skin. He wanted to pull her tightly into his arms, kiss her until they were both gasping for breath, but not while his father was watching them.

Splinter waited quietly for them to part, his dark eyes watching their faces. “This brings me to my next request,” he said diplomatically. “I would appreciate it if you would be… discreet in your closeness around one another, when you are around myself, Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo. I am not barring you from showing affection, but I ask that you consider others whenever you do.”

“Don’t make others uncomfortable?” April supplied.

“That is what I mean,” Splinter said, smiling. His eyes had softened further as he looked down at their intertwined hands, and Don concluded that his father probably meant something like, “Don’t make out in front of your brothers.” He hadn’t been planning to, but he supposed Splinter wanted to make it clear that he shouldn’t, just in case Don or April got carried away.

“And having warned you both,” Splinter said quietly, “I wish to say that I am glad you are together.” He bowed towards April, closing his eyes. “Miss O’Neil, I ask that you be good to my son.”

April’s face flushed and her shoulders hunched forward slightly. “I — I didn’t think I—“

A loud thump came from outside the shoji screen, followed by a muffled “ow!” in what sounded like Mikey’s voice. All three immediately looked towards the door, and Don saw Splinter’s thick gray brows draw together in displeasure. A murmur came from behind the door, and Don realized that his brothers — possibly all three of them — had been avidly listening in on the entire conversation.

Splinter sighed heavily, looking somewhat embarrassed. Without another word, he rose and moved out of the room, sliding the door open and stepping out. Don caught a brief glimpse of his brothers huddled outside, Mikey sprawled on his stomach while Raph and Leo crouched over him, before Splinter firmly shut the door with a thump.

A few minutes of silence followed. Don could hear his heart beating rapidly, and the soft whisper of April’s breath as she stared straight ahead at the wall of Splinter’s room. He desperately wanted her to say something — to let him know that everything was all right with her — and that she wasn’t too uncomfortable with what Splinter had said to them. She had seemed troubled when his father had asked her to be good to him.

“Does this mean — we’re in a relationship?” he finally said.

April seemed to break out of a trance, and looked at him in surprise. “Yes, Don. After last night, I — I thought you knew.”

“I wasn’t sure. I don’t know much about it,” Don confessed, caught up in her wide green eyes. He took both her hands and gripped them between his, feeling her smaller fingers flutter against his skin like the wings of doves. “I mean, all I know about relationships is what I’ve seen on TV, and I haven’t seen that much. I wasn’t sure if — if last night meant that we were really together, if neither of us said we were.”

“I thought that you would assume we were, once we — made love.”

“I didn’t want to assume that, in case it wasn’t what you wanted.”

April smiled softly and rested her forehead against his. “Well, I do want it. If you want us to be, we are,” she said. 

Don stared at her for a moment. “I do,” he said quietly.

Warmth flooded her face, and she kissed him lightly. “I’m glad about that,” she said.

His arms slipped easily around her, his hands resting against her back as he drew her close to his plastron, burying his face against her shoulder. This time, they didn’t kiss — Don just wanted to revel in April’s presence, to sink into her warmth and softness and never emerge. She in turn rested the side of her face against his head, her eyelashes brushing his skin as she closed her eyes.

They remained like that for a while. But finally Don raised his head slightly, and sighed.

“So what happens now?” he said.

She looked a little confused by that, but her brow smoothed as she seemed to remember the beginning of their conversation. “I don’t know, Don. We’re — we’ve done almost everything backwards. I’m pregnant, then I moved into the lair, and now we’re together.”

“I guess we’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Don said.


	61. Leatherhead Joins The Party

“Leatherhead!”

Don’s voice rang out across the lair, startling April out of her thoughts. She twisted around to see a massive figure standing at their “front door,” the sliding wall area that allowed the Turtles to go freely from their home to the sewers and back again. It was the enormous mutant crocodile that the Turtles had befriended, Leatherhead.

April had only encountered Leatherhead a handful of times — she had first seen him when she, Casey and Splinter had saved the Turtles from Agent Bishop, who had somehow captured the crocodile as well. He had lived with the Turtles and Splinter for a while after that, shortly before she and Don had been abducted, but Don had later told April that Leatherhead’s trauma and his unstoppable temper had made it impossible for him to live with them any longer. So he dwelled peacefully in an old station a few minutes away.

April had to admit that Leatherhead made her a little nervous. She knew that he was gentle by nature and meant well. But he was enormous — looming much larger even than Casey — and the knowledge that he could fly into a berserk rage was unnerving. Mikey had cheerfully informed her that Leatherhead had almost killed him because of a nightmare.

“I received your message, Donatello,” the mutant crocodile rumbled as he entered the lair. “You need my help?”

“I’ve almost finished an ultrasound machine, which I’ve been modifying to get the clearest possible picture — clearer than any hospital has,” Don said. “But I need another pair of eyes to make sure I haven’t left anything out.”

“Besides, it’s been a long time since we saw you, croc-man,” Raph said. 

Leatherhead smiled slightly, his yellow eyes roaming over the faces of his friends, before settling on Don. “An ultrasound machine,” he said. “Is someone here sick?”

A ripple of discomfort ran through the room, and the Turtles all looked at one another, their faces grimacing. They hadn’t told Leatherhead about Don’s rape, April realized. If they had, it might have set the crocodile off into a rage, and nobody wanted that. 

“Not exactly,” Leo said hesitantly. “It’s more like a—“

“Pregnant,” Raph said loudly. “April’s pregnant.”

Leatherhead’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked over at where April was sitting in Don’s lab. “That is good news, Miss O’Neil. Congratulations,” he said rather formally.

“Thanks,” April said, smiling uncertainly.

Then Leatherhead turned back to Don. “But surely there are doctors for a pregnant woman who could perform an ultrasound,” he said, looking past Don at the bulky machine crouching in the middle of his laboratory. “Is there a reason that you are building your own?”

“April can’t go to a human doctor,” Don said quietly. “The child… it’s mine.”

That seemed to stun Leatherhead into complete silence, his eyes widening and his head rising above those of his friends as he drew back. Then he seemed to freeze in place. The only thing about him that moved was his massive tail, sweeping back and forth across the floor as he slowly looked from Don to April, and back again. 

“What?” he said.

“The baby is my child,” Don repeated. “April can’t go to a human doctor, or they would recognize that there’s something odd about it.”

“How is this possible?” Leatherhead said, sounding both amazed and shocked. 

“Utrom mutagen,” Leo replied. “According to Donnie, it caused a conception, and… well, a baby mutant.”

“And that’s why I need the ultrasound,” Don interrupted, sounding almost as if he were pleading. “I need to find out if the baby is all right — if the mutagen’s catalysis was successful. I need to know if it’s even viable, or whether there’s anything — wrong with it.” April saw a tremor pass through him, as quick and brief as a breath of wind through the leaves. “If it isn’t all right, it’s because of my mutated body, and I — I need to know.”

Without a word, April rose from Don’s computer chair and went to his side, sliding one of her hands around his forearm and twining her fingers through his. He held her hand tightly. She could tell that Leatherhead had noticed the intimate gesture, but chose not to comment on it — he probably presumed that the pregnancy was the result of a relationship rather than coming before it. 

“I understand, Donatello,” Leatherhead said quietly. “I will do whatever I can to help your child.”

Don smiled at last. “Thank you, L.H.”

April let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and raised a hand to her stomach. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Leatherhead nodded towards her, and moved past them to Don’s lab. But April noticed that his path arced away from her, as if he were trying to avoid her. Not as if he disliked her, but as if she were a delicate porcelain sculpture that he was worried about knocking over and breaking. She felt a little annoyed by that — she wasn’t any more delicate than she usually was just because she was pregnant.

Don’s hand still clung to hers as he went back into the lab, drawing her after him. “I’ve rigged up a larger, clearer screen than the ones used in the hospitals. We should be able to see every detail of fetal development, but I’m concerned that the transducers aren’t enough to get that level of detail,” he said.

“We could always build our own,” April said, running her other hand over her stomach absently.

“I can’t wait that long,” Don said, placing his hand over hers. “We’ll build our own once we — once we have some idea of how it’s doing.”

April smiled gently, and pressed her lips between his eyes, the fabric of his mask brushing her face. “Calm down, Donnie,” she said softly. “You’re letting this become an obsession. The baby might be just fine.” She stayed close to him, her words whispering across his face. “And even if it’s not, we’ll love it anyway.”

“It might not live when it’s born,” Don whispered. “If that’s because of me… I couldn’t —”

April felt as though her heart was suddenly being squeezed by an iron fist. The thought of spending nine months — or however long her pregnancy would last — with the baby growing inside her, moving inside her womb, connected to her, alive and real… and giving birth at last, only to lose that tiny life immediately… she couldn’t imagine that kind of pain, but the echoes of imagining it was more than enough. And suddenly she wanted to be holding her baby now — a warm, solid shape in her arms, looking up at her with trusting eyes. She didn’t yet know whether it would be more human or turtle — what it would look like — but she wanted it. More than anything.

She leaned towards him and rested her cheek against Don’s, gently moving against him as she stroked the back of his neck. Besides the fear curdling inside her, she wanted him not to be afraid — wanted him not to worry about their baby. But she knew that he wouldn’t have any peace until he had seen their child on that screen — and if something was wrong, it would destroy him. Her hand tightened on the edge of his shell, pulling him closer, as if she could protect him from what might be coming.

“Donatello,” Leatherhead’s deep voice called out, breaking through the silence. “Would you please come here? I think that I might have a way of further enhancing the image reception.”

Don took a shaky breath, and raised his head. “I’ll be right there,” he said. His hand closed around April’s, and together they moved towards the half-built ultrasound machine.


	62. Ultrasound

Don drew a deep breath. “All right, we’ll see if it works.”

“Don, is there a reason you’re doing this on me and not April?” Mikey said. At Don’s insistence, he was lying flat on his shell on a wooden table, his legs hanging off the edge. He watched uncomfortably as Don smeared a clear, cold gel across his lower plastron.

“Because I cobbled this together from parts from different ultrasound machines, plus some parts of my own,” Don said firmly, “and I don’t know if I did it right just yet. I need to test it, and if it works on you, it’ll definitely work on April.”

“So I’m a guinea pig?”

“You’re much stronger than a fetus, Mikey.”

Mikey started to sit up, but Leo’s strong hand clamped on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “You said this was totally harmless!”

“It is. Ultrasounds pose no risk at all.”

“Then why—“

“Look on the bright side, bro,” Raph said with a grin. “We’ll know if you’re pregnant after this.”

“Not funny, Raph,” Mikey announced. “This goop is really cold.”

“Lie still,” Don said, glancing back at where Leatherhead was typing furiously at the interface they had cobbled together. The screen was starting to glow, but it showed nothing just yet, and it wouldn’t until it was applied to a body. 

He could feel his brothers all staring at him as he placed the transducer on Mikey’s stomach, and began moving it across his plastron. They had seen him working furiously over the few hours since Leatherhead’s arrival, fitting together the last pieces of the ultrasound machine, and finally drafting Mikey for the first test run. 

And April… April had been beside him the whole time, her delicate fingers dancing over the keyboard as she reprogrammed the necessary parts of the machine. Her face had been locked in a frown as she worked, code reflecting in her eyes as she typed. Now she was hovering near Mikey’s head, chewing on her lip as she waited for Don to begin his work.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Leo said critically, looking at the white and gray murk on the screen. 

“Give it a moment,” Leatherhead said. 

Shapes began to form on the screen at last, as Don moved the transducer across Mikey’s stomach and Mikey tried hard not to squirm. The fuzzy mass of gray and white was slowly becoming clearer, and Don felt a surge of excitement as some of his brother’s internal organs began to form on the screen. This was what he had been working towards for days — and it seemed like it was working pretty well.

“Is that my stomach? That looks like a stomach,” Mikey said.

“Actually I think that might be a kidney,” Don said, moving the transducer lower. “You can get up now, Mikey.”

“Does that mean I can wash off this goop?” Mikey asked, sitting up on the table.

“Yes, you can.” Don tossed him a towel. “Okay, April. It’s time.”

Her eyes rose to meet his as she moved towards the table. Raph quickly moved to the other side and took her arm, while Leo gently placed his hands on her other arm. The two of them boosted her up onto the tabletop, muttering assurances that it was going to be okay as April lay back, her legs hanging off the edge. Her hands fluttered across her stomach like a bird’s wings, rolling her shirt up to just underneath her breasts.

She winced a little as Don slathered the gel across her bare skin, and he wished there was some way to make the process less uncomfortable for her. There was just no helping it, if they wanted to see their baby.

But as he prepared her, Raph and Leo moved to either side of the table, and silently took her hands in their own, letting her grip their wrists tightly. Leo raised his head and nodded slightly, his dark eyes solemn and serious. It was something that Don understood without words — Raph and Leo were taking the place that Don would normally have been in, standing by the mother-to-be and watching as the child was revealed. Don felt a surge of gratitude for his brothers’ presence, and how they knew how to help without words, without the need for him to ask.

But then fear surged in him as he picked up the transducer. This was it. This was when they would find out what he and April had conceived, and whether the two of them would raise a child together, or whether they would lose something — someone — destined never to draw breath. It all depended on the catalysis of the mutagen, and whether the mutagenic conception had somehow, miraculously, made two very different creatures compatible.

And if they did lose it — if the baby was horribly malformed, or only kept alive through its connection to April — Don didn’t know what they would do. He had never felt that kind of pain in his life before. And he didn’t know if April would be able to ever even look at him again without being reminded of what they had made, and what they had lost. 

“You can do this, Don,” April said softly. 

He looked down at her on the tabletop, her green eyes pleading with him. For the first time, she looked as frightened as he felt. He nodded slowly. Then, with his heart racing, he placed the transducer on her belly and began moving it across her skin.

It took a moment for the image on the screen to resolve itself into something solid, but it was the longest moment of Don’s life. “Leatherhead, enhance and enlarge the image,” he said faintly, wishing his mouth weren’t so dry.

And then he saw it — a smooth digital shape that moved slightly as the transducer did. For one heart-stopping moment, he tried to see what the shape was, and what it looked like. All eyes in the room were on the shape on the screen, watching anxiously for answers. He saw a spindly arm — a long thick cord — a slightly rounded abdomen — 

“It looks…. normal,” he said faintly.

“You should probably define ‘normal,’ dude,” Mikey said.

“Normal for — for one of us,” Don said faintly, his eyes moving across the readouts at the bottom of the screen. “It’s — about the size of a three-month human fetus, about as long as a human’s thumb. Maybe a little smaller, but we tend to be shorter than humans are.” He squinted at the image, his eyes moving towards the child’s head. “Leatherhead, can you make the image just a little clearer?”

He glanced at April and his brothers, and found them transfixed by the small, smooth shape on the screen. Raph and Leo were openly gawking at it, Mikey was glancing between the image and April’s stomach, and Master Splinter’s black eyes were dewy as he clutched his cane to himself. And April… April was gazing at the image with tears in her eyes, but her lips were curved into a faint smile. She looked to Don and her smile deepened, as if she were thanking him for what he was showing her.

Leatherhead’s hands moved swiftly across the interface’s keyboard, and the digital image became even clearer.

Now Don could see the baby even more clearly, and what he saw nearly stopped his heart. He could see tiny fingers and toes, at the end of spindly limbs that floated freely, slightly curled in the cramped space. He could see the baby’s torso, and the tiny delicate ribs that could be seen just under the baby’s fragile skin. Skin that might be green, when it was born. But what really caught Don’s attention was the head.

It wasn’t shaped like a human’s head. It was more like the heads he and his brothers had — though of course, at this stage it was larger proportionately. A domed forehead, a broader lower face, a wider mouth than any human had. It looked… like a mutant turtle.

“What’s that?” Mikey said suddenly, poking a finger at the screen.

Don jumped, startled out of his reverie. His eyes moved to the spot where Mikey was pointing, an odd dark rim around the baby’s back that was barely visible from this angle. 

“That — looks like a carapace,” Don said faintly, his fingers clutching the transducer tighter. “The baby might have a shell.”

“Cool,” Mikey said, grinning. “Guess it takes after you, Don.”

“In development, it does,” Don said. “It seems to be maturing at a similar rate to a human fetus, and that might continue after it’s born.”

“Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?” April asked.

“No, I can’t,” Don said, shaking his head slightly. “Male turtle genitalia are kept inside the body when not in use, so the baby could be either. We’ll have to wait until it’s born to know.”

April seemed satisfied by this answer, settling back on the table.

“What do you mean, it might continue after it’s born?” Leo said.

“I’m just guessing at this point, since something like this has never happened before. But turtles are hatched more or less ready to survive on their own — when we were mutated, we were only infants, but we were able to walk, speak and do most things that a human child of a few years could have done.” Don sighed. “But this baby, if it follows a more human developmental path, might be helpless when it’s born.”

The baby chose that moment to move slightly, its small limbs twitching as if in greeting to the people watching it. Don could almost imagine it aware that its parents were checking on it, and for a split second his mind provided him with the sensation of a tiny hand clutching one of his fingers. He had never been near a baby in his life, but suddenly he wanted to be holding his own child — wanted to see its eyes, feel it move.

A life. A whole mind, ready to blossom as it learned about the world around it. He had never even thought about what a wonder that was before.

As if reading Don’s mind, Leatherhead’s hand moved across a knob, and a sound began to emanate from the speakers — a pounding noise, fast enough that it took a moment for Don to recognize that it was a heartbeat. His own heart felt like it was speeding up to match his child’s, and his hand clutched tightly around the transducer.

“That’s—“ April whispered, looking at the screen.

“I — don’t know what’s normal for that,” Don said quietly. “But it sounds — healthy.”

He tore his eyes away from the screen to look at April. Her wide green eyes were shining with tears, and her hands were tightly clutching Raph and Leo’s.

“Should we save some images?” Leatherhead interjected.

“Yes, absolutely,” April said immediately.

Don waited until Leatherhead had finished working on the computer interface, and then removed the transducer from April’s stomach. He saw the tiny huddled figure blink out of sight, heard the heartbeat vanish. It tugged at his heart, but he reminded himself sternly that he and April could see the baby again whenever they wanted to — and if she was willing, he would see it many times in the months before it was born.

He seized a nearby cloth and gently wiped the gel from April’s stomach, even as Raph helped her sit back up. One of her hands brushed his face, turning him towards her, and he found himself looking into green eyes filled with relief and a kind of simmering happiness. Her hands cupped his face, and drew him close enough for a brief kiss. A celebration of the fact that their baby — as far as they could tell — was going to live, and showed no signs of anything wrong with it.


	63. After The Ultrasound

April couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pictures. She sank down into the couch, looking over the large glossy pictures that Leatherhead and Don had produced after her ultrasound. They were a little blurry, but she could clearly see the baby — the shape of a tiny plastron, the little arms and legs, the large head that seemed to be looking directly at her. It looked more like Don than it did her, but she didn’t care what it looked like.

It was her baby. Her little impossible miracle.

And she had seen relief and joy blooming in Don’s eyes after they had seen it together, growing as normally as a mutant turtle baby could possibly be. Whatever misshapen horrors Don had feared hadn’t come to pass — the mutagen had conceived a baby who seemed healthy, if the ultrasound scans were to be believed. 

Her hands trembled a little as she put the pictures down. Leatherhead had brought them to her, still keeping his distance as much as possible, but clearly also enthralled by the images on them. Then he had retreated from the lair, promising to return if Don needed his further assistance. He lived only a few minutes from the Turtles, and it would be easy for him to come by again.

Something clinked nearby, and Master Splinter appeared beside her, with a tray resting on his arm. On it was a blue-glazed teapot and a pair of small cups.

“May I speak to you a while?” he said quietly.

“Of course,” April said, inching over on the couch. 

The rat settled beside her, and began pouring tea into the cups with a steady hand. April saw his eyes flicker to the photos in her lap, and his furred face softened. 

“I have never seen a procedure like that before,” he said. 

“Neither have I,” April admitted a little tremulously. “And I definitely never underwent it before. But it was worth it.”

“I believe it was,” Splinter said. “It is a great relief to know that the child is healthy.”

“I thought — you were sure the baby would be all right,” April said.

“I was not sure,” Splinter said, handing her a cup of tea. “But I hoped that it would be. Especially since Donatello was so fearful of the opposite.”

Don. April smoothed one hand over her stomach as she took the tea with the other. He had been so worried ever since he had found out she was pregnant, and that the conception hadn’t been entirely natural. And he had blamed himself preemptively for any problems in the baby’s body — she had never seen him so distraught. He was normally so calm and level-headed that his distress had been even more upsetting to April.

His eyes had been so alight with relief and amazement when he had heard the baby’s heartbeat, seen its tiny shape. April hadn’t just been relieved to see that her unborn child was all right, but that a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Now he could just be glad that they were having a baby, and look forward to what was coming. Together.

Of course, there were still other things to worry about. Sarkis was still searching for the baby, if Master Splinter was correct, and they knew nothing about him or why he was searching for a mutant turtle child. And she knew the Foot Clan would be deeply interested in the baby if they ever found out it existed. The idea of her helpless child in Shredder’s hands was enough to make her stomach curdle. She would die before she ever let her baby be taken by their enemies.

For a moment, she thought about the old pictures of herself as a baby, clutched tightly in Robyn’s chubby arms. Then a flicker of sadness came over her face, and she looked down into the greenish depths of her tea.

“Is something wrong, April?” Splinter asked.

“I was just… I just realized that nobody in my family will ever know I have a baby,” April said, raising her face slightly. “I can’t tell my sister that I’m pregnant, and she’ll never know she’s an aunt.”

Sadness crept into Splinter’s eyes, and he carefully set the teapot back on the tray. “I wish that it were possible to share this joy with her,” he said softly. “But if she knew, she would wish to see the child, and she would discover who had fathered it.”

“I know, I know,” April said dismally, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Splinter placed a hand on her arm. “Perhaps one day, if the world becomes a more accepting place, you can tell her that you are a mother,” he said. “For now, we must be content with three uncles.”

A loud clank came from the upper level of the lair, followed by Don’s voice crying out, “Hold it higher, Raph!” A loud grunt, and the sound of stone and metal grating on one another. Then came the loud buzz of a power drill cutting through wood, loud enough that April thought she could feel the vibrations in her teeth.

She smiled slightly. Once she had released him from their celebratory kiss, he had stared at her in mingled desire and amazement, his hands clutching at her arms. Then, before either of them could speak, his brothers had suddenly been all around them, hugging them and slapping Don on his shoulders and shell, their voices raised in delight. Seeing the baby had been something extraordinary for all of them, April knew, especially since the baby looked as if it took after Don. They weren’t the only ones of their kind anymore. 

And Don… Don had smiled in a way April hadn’t seen since before his rape, since those long nights spent together, brainstorming over some invention or other that required both their hands. Almost shyly, but with real joy in his eyes.

Not long after, he had dragged Raph upstairs, and the air had been full of drilling, hammering, and the loud sizzle of welding. And, of course, lots of commands to Raph, who grunted and complained intermittently. April wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing at the moment, but it seemed to be fairly labor-intensive. And she had the feeling that Don didn’t want her to look at what he was working on just yet.

 

“Done,” Don said. “You can let go, Raph.”

Raph let out a final grunt and let go of the door. The massive slab of wood, solidly screwed together, remained stationary on the wall after his hands left it. Raph glanced up at it, his eyes following the heavy steel track that ran over their heads, straight over the hexagonal doorway. The door — and its twin on the other side — hung from wheels set on the track, allowing them to be pulled together over the doorway. When they were, neither light nor sound would make their way into or out of April’s room.

Don climbed down from the ladder and surveyed the doors. His face was almost painfully tired, but he looked satisfied by what he had constructed — and Raph had a feeling he knew exactly why. The doors were thick enough that any stray noises from inside the room would be muffled almost to silence once they were shut. The dense stone walls would do the rest.

And Don deserved it, Raph thought fiercely. He deserved everything April could give him and more. 

He was just glad that things had apparently gone well the night before — and that Don’s fears about the baby’s well-being had apparently been for nothing. At least, as far as Raph could see. He didn’t know much about babies and how they grew, but the fetus had looked pretty healthy to him, even if it was weird to see a mutant turtle with such a large head and thin, fragile limbs. It had looked strangely delicate, and it was hard for Raph to imagine that one day it might be as large and tough as one of them.

“Looks good, Donnie,” Leo called out as he swung up onto the second level.

“Yeah, but when am I getting a door too?” Mikey called out from just behind him.

“Not right now, that’s for sure,” Don said, wincing. “I just wanted this to be done as quickly as possible.”

“I bet you did,” Mikey said, grinning. “And man, do we all know why.”

Leo elbowed him lightly in the side. 

“You ain’t gotta explain nothin’ to us, Don,” Raph said, a soft edge entering his rough voice. “You needed this door made, all you had to do was ask.”

Don smiled at him. “Thanks, Raph.”

Raph massaged a sore muscle in his shoulder, and watched as Don put away his tools. Concern grew inside him at Don’s slowed speed, the slight fumble of his hands as he closed his toolbox. He knew Donnie could go without sleep for days, but he also knew the signs when his brother was getting too tired to continue. When this happened, Raph and his brothers generally withdrew and let Don decide for himself when he was going to succumb to sleep. Not this time.

“Donnie, you look real tired right now,” he said a little awkwardly.

Don shrugged. “I didn’t really get any sleep last night,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed.

“Well, you were pretty busy,” Mikey said, his mischievous grin growing wider. “Can’t you tell us what it was like?”

Don gave him a sharp look. “No way.”

“Come on, Don, none of us—“

“Mikey, I’m not telling you about last night,” Don said firmly. “It was very special and very personal for me, and don’t even try to imagine what was going on.”

“And that’s the end of it,” Leo said before Mikey could protest. He stepped towards Don, his eyes moving quickly over his brother’s face. “But you do look tired, Don. Now that you’ve done the ultrasound and gotten this door up, maybe it’s time for you to get some rest.”

“I guess I should,” Don said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

But he paused and looked up as footsteps rang out on the ladder leading up to them. A moment later, April clambered up onto the second level, and Leo quickly took her hand to pull her back to her feet. Don stood up a little straighter as she came toward him, and her eyes widened at the sight of the twin doors on either side of her room’s doorway.

“This is what you were working on?” she said, sounding astonished.

“These were for you,” Don said almost shyly, gesturing at them. “You’ll have all the privacy you need — all you need to do is shut them.”

April’s face lit up with a smile as she went closer to Don, and kissed him gently, her hands resting against his plastron as she leaned down towards him. It wasn’t a showy kiss — they weren’t making out or anything — but Raph suddenly wanted to look away from the intimacy of it, the feeling that it was just for the two of them to enjoy, that something deeper was communicated through their touch. 

When they finally parted, Leo cleared his throat. “We were just telling Don that he needed to get some sleep,” he said.

“I agree,” April said warmly. “You’ve done more than enough for one day, Donnie.”

“If that’s what you all think I should do,” Don said, smiling faintly.

As his brother headed off to his own bedroom, Raph hefted his toolbox up onto one shoulder, planning to stick it back in Don’s lab where it belonged. And then perhaps he would spend some time on the computer again, since Don likely wouldn’t be awake again until the following morning. He had to get his time when he could.


	64. Bad Dreams

_She could feel everything vividly — the grime and dust under her bare feet, the sweat still clinging to her skin, the calloused hands gripping her throat and pulling her head back by her loose knot of hair. But everything in her — every fiber of her being — was focused on Don rather than herself._

_She had to help him._

_That monster had dragged him to the middle of the concrete floor, and forced him back on his shell. His arms and legs lay limply, still barely even able to twitch. And Racer was crouching over him, a savage smile on his thin face. Suddenly he had a switchblade in his hand, the blade gleaming in the faint light as he moved it to the green skin of Don’s throat. She saw his muscles tense, heard the rough catch of his breath as he felt the knife brush against his jugular._

_“Please, don’t…” she whispered. “Don’t do this…”_

_Don’s dark eyes turned towards her, and the look was there again — aching, unblinking, alight with hopeless love for her. He was straining as far as his paralyzed body would allow, and she saw his lips form her name._

_“You had your fun with her, freak. But now you’re just dead weight,” Racer hissed. He raised the switchblade above his head, and plunged it down —_

April woke with a strangled cry on her lips. Her fingers dug fiercely into the mattress, and her heart battered against her ribs like a fist trying to break free. 

For a moment all she could see in the darkness that surrounded her was a splash of blood red, and Don lying there, the light fading from his eyes. But slowly the vision faded, and there was nothing left but blackness on every side of her, broken only by the green numbers of her clock. She was in her bedroom in the lair. Nowhere near the Purple Dragons. Safe.

She slowly sat up, and fumbled for the light switch. When warm light flowed from her lamp, she huddled down under her blankets and wrapped her arms around herself. Her face was wet, though she didn’t remember crying. And a deep, penetrating shiver was running through her limbs, making her tremble as she tried to quiet herself. 

Don. She had to see Don.

She knew rationally that Don was all right. Now that the dream had faded some from her conscious mind, she remembered that he had gone to sleep late that afternoon and slept through the evening. He was in his room, in the secret lair, safe and untouched by their enemies. But some part of her refused to believe it, unable to move past the image of him lying in his own blood, his dark eyes dull and faded. Dead. Lost. Gone forever.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded quietly to the doors, which she had pulled shut before going to bed. They rolled open with a gentle push of her hand, and she stepped out into the darkness of the lair, surrounded by a flood of lamplight.

April could hear the other Turtles as she tiptoed past their rooms — Raph was snoring like a chainsaw, Mikey was mumbling to himself — but all her attention was focused on Don’s room. She slowed as she came to his bedroom door, and began moving through the pitch-blackness, her hands outstretched to feel whatever obstacles might lie in front of her. The rigid edge of a desk. The balls of crumpled paper on the floor. And finally, the thin regular shape of a ladder stretching up into the dark above her. She fumbled for the switch of a desk lamp, casting a pale glow through the room. 

She could hear Don’s slow, regular breathing above her as she climbed, finally reaching the loft bed where he slept. He was curled up on his plastron, his head resting on a battered pillow and his legs drawn up to his stomach. Alive. Still breathing.

Then his eyes opened, dark and surprisingly aware. April winced, realizing that as a ninja, he probably could tell when someone entered his room.

“April?” he whispered.

She touched his cheek, stroked it with her thumb. “Come to bed with me,” she whispered, hearing tears choking her voice.

Don didn’t need to be told twice. He slid down from the loft as April climbed back down the ladder, and easily descended to join her. Then he let her take his hand and pull him out into the cool darkness of the lair, following her obediently as she moved back to her bedroom. She could feel his fingers gripping hers tightly.

Her bedroom was still awash in warm, dim lamplight, and somehow the sight of Don in that light was reassuring; it caught on his olive skin and made his body seem to glow from behind. As he stood beside the bed, April pressed her hands to his plastron, gently pushing him down to the mattress, until his shell touched the sheets and his hands slipped up to touch her back. He looked up at her with warm, bright eyes, but the light in them seemed to flicker out as he saw something in her face.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

April stretched over him, pressing her face against his shoulder and curving her body around his more armored one. “I had a dream,” she murmured, suddenly aware of how silly it sounded.

His strong arm slipped around her, and cradled her closer. “Tell me about it.”

“We were back in the cell, Don. Only… your brothers and Casey hadn’t come to save us… and Racer was there. He had gotten tired of torturing you, and he… he…” Her voice broke. “He murdered you — I couldn’t do anything. He cut your throat.” Her fingers tightened around his shoulder, and she pressed herself closer against him. 

Suddenly the dream came flooding back into her mind — the blood spurting from his throat, the life fading in his eyes, and the horrifying darkness erupting inside her chest as she saw him die. But Don was here with her, solid and alive and clutching her close to him. She closed her eyes and leaned towards him, soaking in every touch of his cool skin against hers. 

“I’m right here,” Don murmured. “It didn’t happen.” He raised one of her hands to his throat, and ran her fingers over his flesh to show that there were no gashes, no scars.

“It could have happened,” April said, her fingers slipping from his throat. “If they hadn’t come for us, Racer would have killed you. I would have lost you forever… and I would never have even known how you felt.”

Don held her tighter in reply, his face resting against her unbound red hair. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his soft breaths rushing over her neck, trying to forget the sight of him stained with his own blood, staring up with lifeless eyes. 

“I’ve been in life-threatening danger before, April,” he said softly. “When we first fought the Foot Clan… the mutants in the underground… when Shredder blew up your shop… in the Triceraton arena… when Bishop captured us…”

“I know. I know,” April groaned. “But this was different somehow. You didn’t have your brothers with you this time, and — and you couldn’t fight back when they hurt you.”

She saw Don’s eyes cloud over at the memory, felt his hands spasm slightly as he pulled her closer, and slid around her body. “It’s because you saw everything, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“And because you were so — hurt afterwards. I’ve never seen any of you like that before — and I hope I never do again.” She kissed him softly, letting the touch of his lips and tongue wash away her nightmares. When their mouths parted, she said breathlessly, “I never want to see you like that again, Don.”

“He’s gone,” Don said, resting his forehead against hers. “He’s dead.” But there was a tremor in his voice as he spoke. 

April closed her eyes and nuzzled closer to him, letting her hand stray from the rougher scutes of his shell to the smoothness of his face. The memory of her dream had begun to fade slightly, but she still wanted him beside her — wanted to be sure that he was safe and whole and alive, even when she was asleep. She sighed.

“I shouldn’t have woken you up,” she whispered. “I was just trying to make sure you were all right.”

“It’s okay,” Don replied. “It’s better for you to wake me up than to lie here worrying.” He smiled gently. “I can just sleep here. With you.”

“I’d like that,” April said, kissing him again. 

She settled deeper into his arms as he sank down among the pillows and blankets on her bed, and she watched as his eyes slowly drifted shut, and his breathing slowed into soft regularity. April gently stroked her hand along the side of his face, trying to soothe him back into slumber, even as she felt her strained nerves beginning to settle.

In a strange way, she felt as though his presence would keep the nightmares at bay, as if having him beside her would be something she would sense even in her dreams. And some part of her hoped that, in return, Don wouldn’t dream of Racer when he was beside her — that his subconscious would remember that he had her, and their child, and dream of that instead.

“Good night, Don,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his.

He didn’t answer; his chest was rising and falling with deep, slow breaths, and his face was relaxed. She curled up against him and closed her own eyes.


	65. Early Morning Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be pausing in the lovey dovey stuff (I know I'm not terribly good at it) after this for a little while, and focusing on some other aspects of the story.

April woke a few hours later, drifting awake in a warm nest of blankets and pillows. Her sleep-clouded mind felt strangely peaceful. She felt warm, safe, enfolded by someone’s arms…

Don. He was lying against her, his arms twined around her and holding her close to his plastron. His sleeping face was pillowed beside hers, and she could see a faint smile on his wide mouth. Her heart swelled at the sight. That was what she had been craving — she had wanted to see him unburdened by the pain and turmoil that had haunted him.

Her hand brushed his cheek, tracing under his eye and moving down his throat, feeling him shift towards her as her fingers brushed his shoulder. He was still except for the slow rise and fall of his chest, even as her hand slipped down to his side and caressed him.

She raised her head slightly, looking over his shoulder at the glowing numbers of her clock. It was almost seven o’clock. Don had been sleeping for almost fourteen hours, broken only by the few minutes when he had first come to her bed. And she was inclined to let him sleep even longer — he had a tendency to deprive himself of sleep when he was working on something, and he had gone without it the night before. Now with the strain of worrying about the baby lifted, he could rest.

But she would have to get up soon. The store would need to be opened in a few hours. Of course, it might be difficult for her to get out of bed with Don holding her tightly, as if afraid she would leave him. If she extracted herself from his arms, he might wake up.

She rested her head against his shoulder, and sighed. Maybe she could stay in bed a little longer. She wanted to stay with him — to lie against him and feel him breathing and feeling his arms clinging to her. It drove away the last shreds of the nightmare she had had.

“I love you,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.

 

The first thing Don felt as he began to wake was a soft hand pressed against his plastron, and warm breath brushing over his throat. He slowly became aware of someone lying beside him, with his arms wrapped around their slender body, and the faint smell of honeysuckle. April.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and clung fiercely to whatever dream he had been having. It had probably been a good one. 

He had dreamed of April more times than he could count over the past few years, and sometimes the dreams lingered in his mind as he woke up. The actual content of the dreams varied — sometimes he was making love to her, with every ounce of the passion he felt for her, and sometimes he was simply holding her, glad that she was near him. But it always ended the same way. He would wake in the darkness of his room, alone, his arms empty.

But for now, he could feel the soft curves of her body, her hand against his chest, her cheek against his throat. He could even feel one of her longer legs curled around his legs, which made him shiver. If he could just stay in this dream a little longer… feel her beside him a little more before he had to wake to reality again…

“Don?”

Her voice startled him awake. His eyes flew open, and were immediately greeted by the sight of April’s shadowed face looking up at him, her eyes luminous in the soft lamplight.

“You looked like you were in pain,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

He looked at her with a faint feeling of unreality, his hands slowly moving across her shoulders and back. Then he smiled faintly. “I’m fine,” he said. 

Everything from the past day and nights came flooding back now — his intense, passionate night with April, when he had found solace and healing in her arms; the day when he had confirmed that their child was growing normally; and the previous night, when April had accidentally woken him because of a dream. He had wanted to comfort her, ease her mind about what had almost happened. But he wasn’t sure how to do it — because she was right. He would have died if his brothers hadn’t rescued them when they had, and it might have happened the way she described.

But now she seemed calm again, her eyes slightly drowsy and her lips curved in a soft smile, as if she had never had a nightmare. She snuggled against him and rested her head against his shoulder. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Don said.

“Yes,” April said. “Having you here really helped.” Her hand caressed his plastron like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, before sliding up to his neck and pulling his face down towards her. 

He kissed her gladly, though he still felt slightly insecure about his ability to please her. He had only made love to her for one night, and he was still learning the right way to kiss a woman.

But she seemed to sense his hesitance, moving slowly and gently caressing him, encouraging him, even as she gently rolled him onto his back and settled her slender frame atop him. As her tongue twined with his, he could feel her hands roaming over his body — tracing the muscles of his thighs, the scutes of his plastron, the softer flesh of his sides. Her fingertips left trails of heat on his skin, almost distracting him from the kisses.

Then one slender hand dipped down past the bottom of his plastron, down deep between his legs. Don broke the kiss with a gasp, the unexpected touch making him stiffen.

“I’m sorry!” April said, pulling back, her eyes wide and panicked. “I — I should have asked first —“

“It’s — it’s all right,” Don said breathlessly. “I just didn’t — expect you to touch me there.”

“It didn’t — upset you?”

“No.” His hands slipped up to grip her hips, pulling her closer. “I was just surprised.” 

Her eyes softened with relief, and she allowed herself to be guided closer to him. Then she seized the hem of her oversized T-shirt and slowly pulled it up over her head, allowing Don’s eyes to take in the sight as she divested herself of her clothing. Then she dropped it to the floor beside the bed, and settled down over Don’s body, straddling his abdomen.

He could see the warm light tracing her full breasts, the gentle swell of her narrow stomach, the curves of her hips under his thick fingers. He could have spent the entire morning gazing at her body, barely able to believe that he could touch it, caress it, make love to it. She was perfect. He couldn’t imagine a woman more beautiful than she was. He raised a trembling hand to her face, and she kissed his palm, before looking down at him with soft eyes. 

“What do you want?” she whispered.

Don felt as though his heart was overflowing. “I want to love you again.”

April smiled. “Then we want the same thing,” she murmured, leaning down towards him.

She kissed him again, pushing him back against the mound of cushions that they had both been sleeping against. Don wrapped his arms around her, feeling her pelvis sliding down towards his hips, slowly and carefully. A feeling of amazement began to flood through him — that he was really with April, that he was going to make love to her again. His hands reached up to brush her silken skin, and her red hair fell around their faces like a fiery curtain.

But then the moment shattered into icy shards that seemed to pierce through him. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe — he felt cold concrete behind him — his limbs were heavy, shaking with weakness — he could hear the mocking jeers of the Purple Dragons as April moved above his trembling body, whispering encouragement — 

“Don!”

Her voice broke through the memory, and it seemed to mist away around him. Suddenly he was lying in April’s bed again, gasping for breath, the sheets clenched in his fists. And she was still crouched over him, but now her face was worried rather than afraid.

“Don,” she said softly. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, and tried to will his body to relax. “It just — reminded me of our first time together,” he whispered. “Not the night before last night… back in the…”

Horror flashed through April’s eyes. “Don, I didn’t — I didn’t mean to —“

“It isn’t your fault,” Don said quickly, clutching at her slim arms. “I’m all right, April.”

April shook her head, and huddled forward. “Don, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “This was a bad idea—“

“No!” Don said, a note of panic entering his voice. “April, I — I still want this. I want you. Please…”

“But if it’s making you remember —“

His hands moved to her sides, slid over her back. “Please, April. We can’t just keep being afraid that I’ll remember something.” His fingers slipped down to her hips again, gently sliding them closer.

April’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she took a quavering breath. For a moment, Don worried that she was going to refuse him, and leave him behind. Then she seemed to plunge forward into his arms, curling her legs around his muscled thighs and pressing her mouth to his. He closed his eyes, and sank back.

They made love for what could have been minutes or hours — Don wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like he was losing himself in April, sinking into her with aching ecstasy that shivered through his flesh and bones. He clung to her as their bodies moved, feeling her fiery hair brushing his face, her soft pale skin against his, her gasps every time he touched her, her moans as his lips brushed her throat. He wanted this to last forever — just the two of them, locked in each other’s arms and never letting go.

And though the position had reminded him of their first mating, it was different enough that the memory faded from his mind. That time, he had felt pleasure from it, and he knew April had too. But it had been all wrong — it had been forced on them, and there had been fear, and guilt, and misery that their coupling hadn’t been something that April had wanted. 

But this time, no one was forcing them to do anything. No one else was there. There was no fear, no anguish — and Don was able to show her how much he loved her without worrying about her safety.

When it was all over, he collapsed back against the pillows, quivering and gasping. April was draped over him, panting, her fingers clutching tightly at his shell as she clung to him. 

“No more memories?” she whispered.

“No more,” he replied just as softly. 

She smiled at him, a faint sheen of sweat on her delicate features, and leaned down to kiss Don, gently and softly this time. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch, and the feel of her slender hands pressed against his chest. His hands roamed up over her shivering body, still entwined with his, feeling her warmth.

Suddenly he felt tired. It was the same feeling he got when he ran over rooftops with his brothers when he hadn’t slept enough — spent, but exhilarated at the same time. 

April seemed to sense this, and quickly ran a hand over his face. “You need to rest,” she whispered.

She slipped off of him and hurriedly pulled the discarded T-shirt over her head. Don almost protested, telling her that she didn’t have to go just yet, but he could feel his body becoming warm and heavy with oncoming sleep. He rolled onto his side and watched her with heavy eyes as she briefly curled up on the bed beside him. 

“I’ll be back this afternoon,” she said, running her hand over his hairless head.

Don sighed. “I’ll be waiting.”


	66. Fighting Form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, but my relative who is dying... is still dying, hence the erratic posting.

He woke up a few hours later, still covered in the blanket April had pulled over him before she had left. For a moment he lay there, thinking dreamily of her green eyes as she had bent over him, and the lingering kiss she had pressed on his mouth before slipping away. 

He knew from past experience that she would return late that afternoon, around dinnertime. Her pregnancy was still early enough that a baggy T-shirt could hide her belly effectively, so she usually was able to work out in the open in her shop. Raph often dropped in to keep an eye on her, which Don was profoundly grateful for — even though the Purple Dragons hadn’t returned to cause any more trouble, he didn’t like the idea of April being exposed and unguarded. Not after what had happened.

The lair was still dark when he emerged, and made his way down into the bathroom. His brothers were in their rooms, but he could see light shining from Leo’s room, and could hear Raph snoring loudly in his hammock.

As he stepped into the shower, he glanced up at the long-handled brush hanging from the circular curtain rod. It felt like a lifetime ago that his brothers had found him scrubbing himself with it until blood trickled down his legs. He didn’t know when it had happened, but the feeling had faded with time. It still flickered in the back of his mind during his darker moments, but somehow the discovery of April’s pregnancy, and his obsession with discovering if the baby was all right, had eclipsed it. 

He stood under the rush of hot water for a while, humming softly as he scrubbed the sweat and musk from his body. In the distance he could hear his brothers — Mikey was rattling around in the kitchen, and he could hear Raph yelling something. As soon as he had dried himself, he slipped on his belt and knotted it tightly, then slipped his pads over his elbows and knees. 

His heart was hammering against his ribs as he walked back out into the lair. He had made the decision the day before — he was going to take back another piece of his life today.

Master Splinter was there already, speaking to Leo. Raph threw a few punches at Mikey, even as the orange-masked Turtle twisted and bobbed out of the way of his brother’s fists. Don couldn’t tell what they were squabbling about, but he could hear Mikey yelping out, “—too slow and always missing me. You need practice, bro!”

But as Don stepped down into the light, they all looked toward him. Even Raph stopped, gripping the tails of Mikey’s mask with one hand and holding the other out in a fist.

“Donnie!” Leo called out. “We were going to let you sleep in.”

“I think I slept enough,” Don said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to get some practice in. I’ve been neglecting it for days.”

“It is good that you are feeling well today, my son,” Splinter said warmly.

“Yes, Master Splinter,” Don said, turning towards his father. He squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “And I’m — I think it’s time for me to do some fight training today.”

Splinter’s dark eyes narrowed, and he slowly stepped forward, examining Don’s face, as if studying a painting whose meaning he wasn’t yet sure of. Don hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt, as he tried to compose his features into a mask of confidence.

“Yes,” Splinter said at last. “If you truly believe you are ready.”

“I do, Master,” Don said.

“But you must remember,” Splinter added firmly, “that there is no shame if you find that you are not. If memories begin to overwhelm you, you must stop immediately.” His eyes softened. “I would not have you struggle through pain and fear in order to prove your strength, my son.”

“I understand, Master,” Don said, clutching his bo.

A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “You can do this, bro,” Raph said in a low voice. “We got your back.”

Don glanced back gratefully at his brother, but for a moment he remembered Raph’s face as it had been when he had last tried to spar with his brothers — how horrified Raph had been, and how hurt he had looked as Don had torn away. He had overheard Raph telling April about it, just before she had come in to speak to him, but he hadn’t known how to tell his brother that it wasn’t his fault. And then he had kissed April, and… his thoughts had been more on that than on Raph’s feelings.

So as he turned to face Raph, his bo already held out in front of him, he watched his scarlet-masked brother’s face. Raph looked grimly determined, but there was unease in his eyes again. Hesitance. He didn’t want to do this, and Don suspected he was thinking of the same tumultuous moments when he had fled from his brothers.

“Raph,” Don said quietly. “If I start… remembering, it’s not your fault.”

Raph grunted, and twirled his sai. He didn’t look convinced.

Don struck out at him with the end of his bo, and Raph easily sprang away, pushing the staff back with the prongs of his sai. Don pressed forward quickly, the bo twirling easily in his hands as he struck again and again, driving Raph a few steps back as his brother defended himself. Only defended himself. Don felt a spurt of frustration as he saw that Raph wasn’t trying to strike at him — he was just blocking Don’s moves, keeping his distance. 

As he swung towards Raph’s shoulder, he heard Splinter call out, “Fight, Raphael! Donatello cannot train if you do not participate!”

Raph’s eyes flickered uncertainly between his father and his brother, and his hands gripped his sai more tightly. Swiftly he lashed out at Don, and Don whirled his bo up to strike Raph’s wrist. The sai nearly went flying from Raph’s hand, and his brother took another step back as he regathered himself. 

Don felt a spurt of exhilaration as Raph struck out at him again, and he blocked the blow. Just then, Raph kicked at him — a high, sharp kick that he had to lean backwards to avoid — and Don swept his bo upward to catch behind Raph’s knee, forcing it upwards, wrenching his legs apart and throwing him off-balance. With his weight thrown back on one leg, Raph staggered backwards and crashed back on his shell, his sai falling from his hand. 

Don didn’t hesitate — he sprang forward and landed over Raph’s chest, his bo across his sprawled brother’s throat. Raph looked surprised at how he had gotten there, almost as surprised as Don felt — he was rustier than Raph had been, and his brother was a stronger fighter even at the best of times. But Raph looked too startled to have let him win.

“Well done, Donatello,” Splinter said.

Don raised his bo and rose from his crouch over Raphael, then held out his hand to help his brother to his feet. Raph grunted as he rolled forward onto his knees, and picked up the fallen sai from his sides. Then he took Don’s hand and let his brother draw him up, looking both embarrassed and proud.

And suddenly Mikey and Leo were at his sides, their faces alight as they congratulated him. Don smiled at them as their strong hands settled on his shell and shoulders, assuring him that he had lost none of his strength or skill in the past few months.

And for a moment, Don felt as though the bonds between himself and his brothers were drawing them closer, binding them tighter, drawing them together until they were almost like one living being. He could feel all their personalities interlocking like an intricate puzzle — Raph’s passion, Leo’s strength, Mikey’s playfulness — so that no one of them could stand alone. The other three needed him as much as he needed them. Their hearts, their minds, all were woven together.

His hand gripped Leo’s bicep and Raph’s wrist as they clustered close to him, silently thanking them for staying with him. Never letting him give up. He hadn’t realized how much he needed them as a part of him until he had lost those bonds — or at least had felt them stretch until his brothers were no longer within his reach. He had never felt lonely before in his life — not until the rape had torn him away from them.

But those wounds had started to heal the night they had found him crouched in the shower, scrubbing himself raw. Telling them everything had ripped away the festering in his soul, and let them support him, comfort him, hold him up until he could stand alongside them. He hadn’t even been aware that he was healing little by little, but he could feel it now. Scarred, but stronger.

“You done good, Donnie,” Mikey said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “But beating up Raph’s one thing. Fighting me’s totally different.”

“It looks like you ain’t lost nothin’, Don,” Raph said, slipping his sai back into his belt.

The warm glow of their presence stayed with Don as the four of them moved through their exercises, under Splinter’s watchful gaze. Somehow knocking Raph on his shell had given him a little spurt of confidence that showed itself in the swiftness of his moves, the sweep of his bo as he ran through drills with Leo. The leader gave him a few pointers on his form, but seemed as pleased as Mikey and Raph to see Don back to normal -- or at the very least, closer to it.

When they finally finished, bowing to their master, Don felt strangely exhilarated. He slipped his bo onto his back, and headed for his lab, where the bulky shape of the ultrasound had been left beside his computer. He had left the place in a mess of half-eaten Chinese food cartons, left-out tools and masses of wire and circuit boards, which swamped his worktable like coils of thin snakes. 

He almost didn’t hear Leo until his brother was standing directly behind him. His face was solemn, almost grave.

“How do you feel, Donnie?” he said quietly.

Don glanced down at his hands. “Better than before. Being with April… being supported by you guys… it’s really helped.”

“We’re always here for you, bro,” Leo said, resting his hand on Don’s shoulder.

“I know,” Don said, smiling a little. He remembered vividly how Leo had cared for him in the aftermath of his rape, and had supported him as they had left the flooded bathroom.

He slid onto his chair and began swiftly writing short lines of text on a piece of paper. Leo turned his head curiously, looking down at the list. “What are you working on?” he asked.

“Something I’m planning for April,” Don said. “I might need your help with it.”


	67. Dinnertime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it finally happened. My relative has died, and things have been crazy chaotic for my family. I'm hoping soon I can update more frequently.

The sun was setting as April pulled into the warehouse that served as the Turtles’ garage. As she slid out of her van’s driver’s seat, she sighed and rubbed her stomach. Maybe it was the pregnancy, or maybe it was just in her head, but she felt hungrier more often than she had a few months ago. And queasier. It was a strange combination.

Then she spotted a familiar motorcycle parked in the shadows. Casey.

Her stomach began fluttering furiously, and she had the feeling it wasn’t the baby. Casey had been so understanding and mature when she had admitted she was falling in love with Don, even encouraging her not to care about the Turtle’s age, but she still dreaded telling him that she and Don were now together. It would hurt him, and even though she was no longer with Casey, she hated the idea of hurting him.

As she descended down into the lair, she desperately tried to think of how to talk to Casey if he brought up her relationship with Don. Raph was his best friend, so it was likely he would tell Casey — if asked — that April and Don’s relationship had already gone further than her relationship with Casey ever had. Not cruelly, but he probably wouldn’t hide the truth from Casey if the vigilante asked about it. 

When she left the elevator, she immediately saw Casey sitting on the couch beside Raphael, the two hunched forward as they eagerly watched a wrestling match on the TVs. Their faces were locked in intense scowls, as if they could make their chosen wrestler win by willpower alone. Both were clutching a can in one fist — Casey’s was beer, and Raph’s was soda pop. Even if the Turtles had been old enough to drink alcohol, April knew that Splinter wouldn’t have let them drink it — it impaired the senses and fighting ability, and, in his opinion, polluted the body.

“He’s got ‘im pinned!” Casey bellowed as she stepped into the lair.

“Typhoon’ll get out of that, no problem,” Raphael retorted.

“Hah! He ain’t got the muscle!”

April breathed a sigh of relief as the two amiably bickered over the wrestlers and who would win. It sounded like the two friends were just hanging out, spending time with one another — and Casey’s mind was definitely not on her, if he could focus so much on wrestling.

Leo was some distance away, kicking furiously at the air with an intent look on his face. April slowed and stopped as she saw his leg lash out at invisible enemies, before drawing back and regrouping, his arms raised defensively. Then he noticed her lurking nearby, and fell out of his stance into a more casual position.

“April!” he said, smiling. “We were wondering when you’d get home. I was going to call you if you didn’t come home soon.”

“Someone wanted to sell an antique bedroom set,” April said, dropping her purse on a nearby table, “and I had to look it over before closing up the store.”

She cast a glance over at Don’s lab, which was empty except for the glow of his computer. Apprehension began to bloom inside her, and her gaze rose to the darkened bedrooms on the upper level. “How did Don do today?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“He was — better,” Leo said, his voice dropping to match hers. “He did some sparring with us for the first time in weeks, and I could tell he was nervous, but he got through it. He beat Raph at sparring, and he really seemed pleased — and relieved.”

Relief flooded through April, and she felt tension seeping out of her body. Don hadn’t sparred with his brothers in weeks — ever since that fateful day when he had first kissed her — and had been haunted by feelings of weakness after being taken captive by the Purple Dragons. It must have boosted his confidence to succeed in a fight, even if it was only a practice bout. 

“Where is he now?” she asked.

“I think he’s in the kitchen.” Leo smiled broadly, as if something about her question amused him. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

April smiled back, and started to move towards the kitchen. Maybe she could surprise Don there. But then she heard Casey’s voice whoop up behind her. “Yo, April!” Her heart bounced up into her throat, almost choking her, and once again she wondered if Raph had told Casey that she and Don were a couple now, and had even sneaked out to be intimate with each other.

She turned slowly, and found herself looking up at Casey’s clear blue eyes. Determinedly so, as if he were willing himself to be collected and good-tempered. He was smiling, looking a little embarrassed, as if he had interrupted her in the middle of something. Raph was still sitting on the couch, watching them with the unblinking, silent stare of an interested cat.

“Hey, I — uh — gotcha these,” Casey said, pulling a small, densely-wrinkled paper back from behind his back. 

As April pried the bag open, he added a little nervously, “They’re for pregnant women, so I thought you could use ‘em.”

April extracted a large dark-plastic bottle, whose label identified it as supplements for pregnant women. She wasn’t sure if mutant turtle babies needed the same supplements as human ones, but it certainly couldn’t hurt. She smiled slightly at Casey, looking at the dozens of pills piled inside. “Thank you, Casey. This is really thoughtful.”

“It ain’t nothin’,” Casey said sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I heard you got a look at the little guy yesterday, huh?”

“Or girl,” April said.

“Or girl. So what’d it look like?”

“It takes after Don,” April said, pressing a hand to her stomach. “It definitely has that mutant turtle look. Do you want to see some pictures?”

“Yeah, sure,” Casey said, sounding genuinely interested.

She swiftly made her way to Don’s lab, and the small pile of pictures he had gathered next to his computer. The pictures didn’t quite capture all the details the ultrasound had generated, but the important parts were still visible — the shape of the head, the slender limbs, the hint of a carapace on the tiny back. April felt warmth swell in her chest at the sight of her baby, and it was with more than a hint of pride that she brandished the photos at Casey.

He squinted down at the photos with the air of someone attempting a difficult puzzle. “So it really is a turtle baby,” he said quizzically.

“Looks just like one of us, don’t it?” Raph said proudly.

“I still can’t believe you guys can get girls pregnant,” Casey said, shaking his head as he went from picture to picture.

April was so absorbed in watching Casey and Raph examine the pictures that she didn’t notice quiet footsteps approaching from the direction of the kitchen. But the faint clink of a ceramic plate caught her attention, and she turned to find Don standing on the edge of the room, holding a large tray in both hands and watching the others intently. His eyes traveled from April to Casey and back again, but he said nothing.

There was something odd about his expression that she couldn’t put her finger on — he looked as though he had a stomachache, and he was trying to hide it. April felt some alarm at the sight — Leo had made it sound like he had had a pretty good day.

Quickly she moved away from Leo and Casey, and over to Don’s side, putting her hand on his arm. “Is something wrong?” she said quietly.

“No, everything is fine,” Don said quickly, as if snapping out of a trance.

But there was a hint of worry in his voice that April couldn’t help but notice, and she suspected she knew exactly what had caused it. Don had been nervous about her being with Casey in the past, no matter how platonic her actions towards her ex-boyfriend had been. In fact, he had believed that she had chosen Casey over him, just a few days before.

So she gently moved her hand to the back of his neck, and drew his face towards hers. She kissed him just long enough to reassure him and dispel his worries, but not so long that it would rub it in Casey’s face — a gentle, firm embrace, their lips locked together before parting. When she drew back, Don looked a little dazed, but he smiled softly at her.

“I made this for you,” he said, looking down at the tray.

April looked down at the tray, and felt a sudden burst of surprise. The tray held a grilled chicken breast, a spinach salad and a glass of milk — not exactly the usual fare for the Turtles, who sometimes seemed to subsist entirely on pizza and Chinese food. 

Don hastily added, “I read that these are all foods that should be eaten by pregnant women. Lean meats, dark leafy greens and extra calcium.”

“Thank you,” April said, smiling at him. 

He placed the tray down on s coffee table in front of the sofa, sat down, and looked expectantly at her. April glanced briefly at Raph and Leo, and found that they were both distracting Casey with more photos of her baby, and Casey seemed to be fascinated by the sight of the “turtle baby.” In other words, his brothers were trying to give her some time with Don without hurting Casey.

“What about you?” she said as she sat down beside Don. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“I had some leftover pizza,” Don said, a little sheepishly.

April leaned towards him and gently touched her lips to his. “Next time, wait until I show up, so we can eat together,” she said in a low voice.

Don’s eyes brightened slightly, and one of his hands twined around hers. “I’ll remember,” he said.


	68. More Time Passes

The days that passed became steadily more pleasant for April. Don seemed calmer and more relaxed now that he knew their baby was developing normally, and she caught him more than once gazing at the photographs Leatherhead had taken of their child. One of the clearer ones had been taped to the side of his computer, so he could turn his head and see it whenever he was working.

He seemed to be growing more sure of himself with every passing day — he sparred with his brothers in the mornings, though with the brittle awareness of everything that touched him. He was still jumpy at times, especially when someone was behind him, but his confidence and strength seemed to be growing.

And because of that, the Turtles ventured out into the city more often, battling the Foot Clan and thwarting Shredder’s attempts to collect Triceraton technology. April never told them that her heart was in her throat every time they went out. Don’s kidnapping and rape had broken the veneer of invincibility that the four had, the same way that Leo almost being beaten to death by Shredder’s Elite Guard had. It was the awareness that for all their strength, all their skill, they were still mortal. She felt something unclench inside her every time they came back, unhurt and alive.

Casey came around more often as well, and remained friendly and supportive whenever he did — he would hang out with Raph most of the time, and the two of them would roam around the streets on their motorcycles. April still wasn’t sure how much the Turtle had told him about her relationship with Don, but Casey seemed to have figured out a great deal of it himself. It didn’t hurt that he had found them half-asleep and cuddled together on the sofa one afternoon.

Don, however, acted oddly whenever Casey came around. He would become very quiet and immediately immerse himself in a gadget or experiment, not looking at April unless she addressed him directly. His insecurities worried April — she knew he wouldn’t cause trouble, but the discomfort her interactions with Casey caused struck at her heart.

Fortunately, Don didn’t seem to be so troubled when Casey wasn’t around. Almost every night he slept in her bed — sometimes, especially when he was up late with his work, he would simply slip under the covers and nestle in behind her. She half-woke on those nights to feel a strong arm curling around her body, warm breath stirring her hair, and a plastron pressed against her back. Then they both fell asleep.

Some nights they lay close to one another, speaking softly of things that were on their minds — experiments and projects, Don’s outings with his brothers, and the baby. April treasured these soft, intimate moments with her lover, wrapped in blankets and clinging to one another, their arms wound around each other as they softly spoke words meant for no one else.

And on most nights, they would make love. April found that she craved it as she never had before in her life — once she came home early, and nearly dragged Don up to her bedroom. At first, she blamed it on the hormones that the baby was stirring up; her books on pregnancy did warn that some women became ravenous for sex.

But there was something more to it than that. Something about making love to Don touched her in a way deeper than the physical. Maybe it was that he was so quietly joyous about being with her, so that the happiness seemed to radiate from him — from his eyes as she kissed him feverishly, from his body as they strained and gasped, entwined tightly together. If she could have somehow made Don look that way forever, she would have done it. Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms, April closing her eyes as she felt Don’s hands gently stroking her hair and skin.

And they took the opportunity to learn something about what the other liked. Don had been almost a virgin when he had sneaked out to meet her that first time, so he didn’t really know what he enjoyed. But April soon discovered that he enjoyed being kissed along the edges of his plastron scutes, that trailing her lips along his belly caused him to tremble under her. And in turn, she taught him where and how to touch her. She had always known that his thick-fingered hands were more dextrous than they looked — after all, he was able to type as fast as she could, and handled tools with the precision of a surgeon — but she had never known just how much.

But other things happened at night — things that were far less pleasant. Only a week after their relationship began, April woke to the sound of harsh, strangled sounds, almost cries, coming from beside her in the bed. She rolled over, her eyes still bleared with sleep and blinking in the faint light of a desk lamp.

It was Don, his olive-green skin drenched in sweat and his limbs rigid as logs. His face was locked in a pained grimace, and his eyes were tightly shut, as if he was trying to shut out whatever was tormenting him. When she touched his arm, his other hand clamped on her wrist. Splinters of cracking pain shot through her forearm, and she flinched — he was holding her too tightly, with all his considerable mutant strength.

“Don!” April said desperately, gripping his shoulder. He was heavier than she was, and she could barely shake him. He seemed to be straining against something, and drawing his legs up. 

April bit her lip, and pressed herself against him. “Don,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s all right, Don — you’re safe — you’re with me, Don — none of this is real — just relax — Don —“

For a moment he remained rigid, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Then he slowly began to relax, his hand sliding from her wrist as the tension seeped from his body. “It’s okay, Don,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

“April?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“You’re with me, Don,” she said quietly, resting her head against his. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you.”

He was quiet for a moment, then a tremor ran through his body. “I thought — I thought I was — getting better,” he said, his voice choking.

April held him close, gently stroking her fingers over his huddled shoulders, feeling the damp patches of skin on his face. He returned the hug by fiercely clutching her to him, her cheek resting on the top of his head. For a moment she wasn’t sure why, but then he murmured, “Don’t go.” Suddenly it became painfully obvious why — she had pushed him away at first because he was still so wounded by his abduction and rape. Perhaps he was afraid that she would push him away now that she knew that he was still haunted by what had happened to him, even after so much struggle.

She had to show him that that wasn’t going to happen, that she wasn’t going to abandon him. So she gently curled an arm around his neck, and pressed her lips to his head. She could feel his breath coming in halting, warm gasps against the skin of her throat as he tried to calm down. 

Eventually she pulled back slightly, though she kept her arms firmly wrapped around him. He looked so young in the faint lamplight, staring up at her with wide dark eyes. She could see the shreds of his nightmare in his face, gleaming like shards of bone.

“You’re going to be all right,” she whispered. “Just give it time.”

Then April held Don close again, until the shaking died away and his breathing grew soft and even. As her head rested against his pillow, murmuring soft comforting words, she felt hot tears welling up in her eyes as she thought of what he must be thinking, remembering. Of the horrifying minutes when she had seen and heard him be raped, his body helplessly pressed against the bars as Racer had violated him. She hadn’t been able to save him, and she felt guilt over that gnawing at her core.

And now, that pain was still inside him like a searing shard lodged in his soul. She wished she could reach into his body and simply pull it out. But all she could do was hold him close, and try to soothe him when the memories came back.

It wasn’t the last time in those weeks that Don suffered from nightmares. He had a few more nights where he woke up slicked with sweat and gasping from remembered pain. And every time, April held him and whispered comforting words, until his memories subsided back into the shadows of his mind.


	69. The Beginning of the Night

April retched into the toilet bowl, clinging to the sides desperately. The sour taste of vomit still clung to the interior of her mouth, even though her stomach was now empty. The only relief was that Mikey’s large hands were pulling her hair from her face, which he had been doing for almost ten minutes. Finally the retching stopped, and she scrambled back from the toilet, shaking slightly and wiping her mouth with her hand.

“You got any more, April?” Mikey said, attempting a joke. “I think I only saw part of breakfast in there.”

She smiled, still a little wobbly. “I’ll let you know if I need you again,” she said, sitting heavily on the bathroom floor.

Her morning sickness hadn’t really abated since she entered her second trimester, and April was starting to wonder if she would be nauseous until she gave birth. She was now five-and-a-half months along, and her stomach was swelling outward enough that she knew soon she would have to close her shop down until the baby was born. At least three months of simply hiding in the sewers and waiting for the inevitable. Backaches. Swollen feet. Mood swings. And the prospect of giving birth in a sewer.

It would be a relief to the Turtles when she shut down the store, she reflected dryly. They hadn’t said anything about it lately, but she could feel that they were worried about her being topside without them watching over her. There was always the lingering worry that she would somehow end up in a hospital, and the doctors would get a glimpse of the child inside her — a child who was most definitely not human, and whose father’s identity would be of great interest to everyone who knew of it. Or worse, that Agent Bishop or Shredder would take an interest in her baby.

Mikey handed her a damp towel, and April dabbed at the sweat on her face and throat. She let the Turtle help her to her feet, and he followed behind her as she headed out into the lair.

One nice thing about being pregnant was that all four of the Turtles were at her disposal — whenever she needed help, they would drop whatever they were doing and rush to help her. They seemed to take turns, though, which felt a little odd — it was as if the baby had four fathers who were evenly dividing the work. Mikey was supporting her in her morning sickness, so Leo might give her a backrub, and Raph or Don might fix her lunch.

She sank into the couch and curled up against a battered cushion, absently running her hand over her stomach. From there, she could see that Don was in his lab, bent over a large rectangular object that he had been tinkering with for days. His goggles flickered with reflected light as he shone a small flashlight into its depths, then dug his hands into the device’s guts. April wasn’t sure what it was yet, but she suspected it had something to do with the baby. She smiled a little at the thought. 

They had done several ultrasounds since Don had first confirmed that the baby was growing normally, and Don seemed reassured about that. But his concerns had begun to grow about her well-being. She still had to give birth to their child, and he seemed to be worried because she wouldn’t have access to a hospital’s resources when she did.

Near the pool of water in the lair’s heart, Leo was lost in conversation with Master Splinter, with the stern look on his face that he always wore when he was concentrating on a kata or technique. As she watched, he nodded and leaned forward to listen more intently.

April frowned. “Where’s Raph?” she asked Mikey.

He flopped onto the couch beside her and buried his hand in a bag of chips. “He and Casey are out lookin’ for Purple Dragons,” he said. 

“Again? They’ve been doing that almost every day.”

“Well, Raph really wants to find Dragon Face. And Casey just wants to bust Dragon heads,” Mikey said, stuffing chips into his mouth.

“Do you think —“

But she was interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors opening, a sound that drew her eyes to the other side of the room. As they parted, pale crystalline light glowed from the other side, outlining the two dark shapes stepping out into the lair.

“Christmas!” a voice bellowed.

The hockey-masked figure raised a bat over his head as if he were brandishing a sword. Leo and Master Splinter immediately looked up from their conversation, and Don paused in his work, raising his goggles from his eyes. Behind him, Raph crossed his muscular arms and waited for the fallout from his best friend’s words.

“Christmas!” Casey repeated, apparently thinking that the others hadn’t heard him the first time.

“Christmas?” Leo repeated.

“Christmas!” Casey said, apparently pleased that someone had responded to her. He slid his hockey mask onto the top of his head. “Raph and me were talkin’ while we was out, and we decided that all of ya are goin’ up to the farm for Christmas. Get away from it all, spend some time outta the sewer, get some fresh air for April…”

April sat up straighter, her eyes widening. She and the Turtles had spent a previous Christmas at Casey’s farm, but it had been a rather depressing, joyless experience — they had been driven from their home, her shop and apartment had been destroyed and Leo had been slowly recovering from a nearly-fatal beating that had wounded his spirit as well. There hadn’t been many gifts, but April and Casey had managed to scrounge together a large dinner for themselves and their friends. She still remembered how they had gathered on the floor of the living room, surrounding Leo, who had still been confined to the sofa.

And this year had been rough as well — especially for Don. But Casey was right — getting away from it all might help all of them feel a little better. It might distance Don from the experiences that had hurt him. One of the best things about the farmhouse was that the Turtles were able to spend time out in the open, in the light of day, just being themselves. And April knew she would enjoy being able to walk out in the sunlight, out of the sewers, without hiding her belly.

But then she glanced at Don, who was up to his elbows in the machine he was building. He had a peculiar, far-away look on his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether the news was welcome or upsetting. She uncurled her legs and moved closer to his side, resting a hand softly on his shell.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Don seemed to shake himself out of a trance, blinking over at her. He withdrew his hands from the innards of the machine. “Yeah, I was just — thinking,” he said.

“So whaddaya think?” Raph said, his eyes roaming from face to face.

“That seems like a good idea to me,” Leo said, uncrossing his legs and scrambling to his feet. “Master Splinter?”

Splinter closed his eyes, and seemed to mull it over, his hands resting together on his walking stick. “I believe that some time in the country would be beneficial. For us all,” he said, casting a quick glance at Don. “We will accept your gracious offer, Casey.”

Casey grinned. “It’s gonna be a great Christmas this time. Presents, a real Christmas tree, and we’re gonna eat til we explode.” Raph held out a fist, and Casey energetically bumped knuckles with him.

“Nice!” Mikey exclaimed, perching on the back of the couch. “Maybe this time an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet?”

“That’s not exactly traditional, Mikey,” Don said, crossing his arms.

“It’s never too late to start a new one,” Mikey declared.

Don smiled a little at that, and April felt warmth glow inside her at the sight. He didn’t smile enough these days, in her estimation — although he had been smiling more in the last few months, as his nightmares and flashbacks became less common with time. But then the smile faded away as his gaze moved back past Raph, to where Casey was standing, and he quickly looked down at his feet.

“But first we got something else to do,” Raph spoke up, moving down among his brothers. “Casey’n’me got our hands on this Purple Dragon, a little weedy guy with a big nose. He spilled where Dragon Face and the rest have been hidin’ out for months now. Hun ain’t found it yet, neither have the cops. But we know where it is.” A sharp-edged grin crossed his face, and he rammed one fist into his open palm. “And I’m ready to bring some pain.”

Leo crossed his arms. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trap?”

Casey grinned, and fondled the handle of his hockey stick.

Raph snorted. “That little weasel didn’t have the guts to lie to us when I had my sai pointed at him.” The crimson-masked Turtle spun his sai in his hands, his eyes fiercely fixed on some unknown point that only he could see.

April glanced from Raph’s face to the faces of his three brothers, who were all staring at one another. Leo looked slightly dubious, with his arms crossed across his chest. Mikey was sitting atop the couch, his legs dangling over the side of it, his usually grinning face perturbed. 

And Don was pressing a fist to the left side of his chest, as though feeling his heart, with eyes that darted back and forth across the far wall. His expression was harder to pin down than that of his brothers — it was grim, but there was something else there, a pale light in his eyes that made her uneasy. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingers over his broad shoulder, then gripped his arm tightly. “Don,” she said quietly.

“We have to go,” Don said, raising his head. April wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or not, but his expression transformed into one of uneasy determination. “We have to go tonight.”

His brothers looked toward him, and Raph’s angry expression smoothed out as they studied his face. Even Mikey was uncharacteristically sober as he glanced between Leo and Don.

“All right,” Leo said. “We’ll go tonight.”

“All right!” Casey said, brandishing his hockey stick. A flinch ran through the room, as everyone braced themselves for possible smashed furniture.

Splinter’s quiet voice broke through before the vigilante could say or do anything more. “I too have business tonight,” he said, stepping between his sons. “I will need to spend some time away tonight, while you are abroad. I have an idea of where I might be able to find information that will be vital to us all.”

“Be careful, Master,” Leo said, turning towards their father. 

“I will. But April…” Splinter said, raising his eyes towards her. “Will you be all right alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” April said, quickly smiling. “Don’t worry about me. I used to live alone, don’t forget. I think I can handle being by myself for one evening.”

But she felt a flicker of apprehension as she looked back to Don, her fingers still clutching at his forearm. His eyes were a million miles away, and that strange unreadable look had come back over his face like a mask. April wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him there until the warmth seeped back into his gaze. 

But she knew she couldn’t hold him back. Not tonight.


	70. On The Road

The cold air flowed across the rooftop like a river, biting Don’s green skin and blowing his mask tails behind his head. He squinted against the wind, looking out over the glowing city lights and flat roofs on every side of him. 

He dropped down into a crouch, glancing down at the Battle Shell parked in the alley down below him. He could see Mikey and Raph down there, conversing with Casey, and he could sense Leo lurking on the rooftop behind him. His brothers had agreed immediately to his decision to go out that evening, to fight the Purple Dragons, but he could feel concern radiating from Leo like the pale light shining from the moon above.

His resolve hardened. This was something he had to do — he had known it from the moment he had heard Raph and Casey declaring that they knew where the rogue Purple Dragons were. The silent, piercing knowledge of what he had to do had appeared in his heart, and it hadn’t even occurred to him to not heed its call.

For the past five months, he had been tearing back little pieces of his life — venturing back out of the lair, finding his way to April, pushing his way past his trauma to his brothers. Confronting his tormenters and fighting them was something more that he had to do, something dark and inevitable that had settled inside him. He had to do it. There was no choice. If he was ever going to find peace again, he had to reclaim this part of his life. 

“Are you okay, Donnie?” Leo’s voice said behind him.

He broke out of his trance, and looked back at the blue-masked face behind him. “I’m okay,” he said, his hand automatically slipping down to touch the tip of his bo.

“You looked kind of tense. Are you sure you’re able to go on this mission?”

“Yes!” The word exploded from Don’s lips.

Leo drew back slightly, and Don quickly moderated his voice. “Yes, Leo. I really feel that this is — is necessary for me. I can’t explain exactly why or how.” He looked back down towards the Battle Shell, and shivered a little as another gust of icy wind flowed over his shell.

“We can wait for another night if you need any more time,” Leo said.

“It has to be tonight,” Don said. “They might move if we wait any longer.”

Leo sighed, and bowed his head slightly. “I’m with you, Don,” he said in a low voice. “I’m just worried that you’re plunging into this too fast, and that you’re not ready.”

“I might never be ready,” Don said. 

“That’s true…”

“Leo,” Don said, standing to face his brother. The tails of his mask slipped over his shoulder and whipped against his face. “I can do this. I have to do this, no matter what.”

Leo’s dark eyes rose to meet Don’s, unreadable and glinting faintly in the moonlight. Then he nodded, and rested a hand on Don’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “I’m with you,” he repeated quietly. “Just don’t go too far, and don’t take any risks you don’t need to take. You’re not tackling this alone, and you’re stronger with the rest of us than you are by yourself. Don’t forget that, and shut us out again.”

Don smiled slightly, his mind flying back to the night when his brothers had found him scrubbing himself raw in the shower. Of their hands and arms holding him immobile, and their voices speaking words of comfort, anger, reassurance. “I won’t.”

They leaped down the fire escape into the darkness of the alley, where their armored vehicle was waiting for them. Don landed lightly on the dirty concrete and scattered newspapers beside the Battle Shell, and stepped inside. The walls of the truck glowed with readouts and computer screens, and Raph’s Shell Cycle rested near the rear, ready to burst out and zoom into traffic at a moment’s notice.

“All aboard the Dragon-hunting express,” Mikey said cheerily, plopping himself into the nearest seat.

“Casey’s gonna drive to the place on his bike, and we’re gonna follow him,” Raph said, sitting opposite him. “You okay, Don? You look a little peaky, especially for a green guy.”

Don slid into the driver’s seat and settled behind the wheel. “It must be the light,” he replied.

The engine roared to life as Leo stepped inside, and the rear door swung shut behind him. Don waited until Casey had blasted out into the road on his motorcycle before backing out into the street, knowing that the vigilante would wait for them. Indeed, Casey’s motorcycle idled beside the sidewalk, his hockey-masked face turned back toward them until the Battle Shell was facing him. Then both vehicles roared forward into the night, leaving trails of scarlet light behind them.

Don felt a thrill of exhilaration as he followed Casey’s tail light, feeling the power vibrating through the steel skeleton of his vehicle. Maybe this was something he had been building towards ever since the night when he and his brothers had seen the Purple Dragons being dragged into the hospital. Time to put a few of them in the hospital himself.

“Slow down a little, Don,” Mikey piped up, just before his seat slid back into the wall. “Ow! You didn’t add a rocket to this thing, did you?”

Don eased his foot from the gas pedal, slowing the Battle Shell until Mikey’s yelps of pain had ceased. Still, the armored vehicle shot around a corner after Casey, fast enough that Don felt himself sliding in his seat. He recognized the streets they were speeding through — they were heading towards the waterfront, which would be fairly quiet by this time of the night. The perfect place for the renegade Dragons to lie low, in a corner where Hun and the Foot might not notice them…

His mind flew back to April, who was waiting alone in the lair for them to return. She had been supportive when he declared that he needed to go after the Purple Dragons, but he had seen concern glimmering in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to alarm her. But he had nonetheless done it, and some part of him knew that she wouldn’t feel relieved until they were all home again, safe and unhurt.

She would be all right, he assured himself. The lair was secret and secure, and he had barricaded it with security that was nearly impenetrable. No one would get to her and the baby.

Casey took another sweeping turn in the street ahead, and Don turned again after him. The thought of April and the sight of Casey made his heart clench unexpectedly, and for what felt like the thousandth time, he tried to push the unease out of his heart. Tried not to think about the percolating feeling inside him that April would slip away from him, and that Casey would be a part of it. Casey was the world that April belonged to, no matter how close she was to the Turtles. He was part of the life that she should have, in the human world.

Nothing April had said or done had created or fed this belief, but Don felt the fear growing in him nonetheless. He knew he had to simply treasure what time he had with her, and love her with everything that he could. But the fear was there all the time, like a knot of rags, bones and rotten leaves lodged in his stomach when he thought of the future. 

She had promised not to abandon him. But Don wasn’t sure what that meant. Did she mean that she would always be a part of his life, no matter what happened? Did that mean that she would still be in contact with him, even if she left him?

“You’re slowing down, Donnie,” Leo said beside him. “Is something wrong?”

Don blinked, breaking out of his thoughts, and quickly sped up the Battle Shell, until Casey’s rear light had filled the windshield. “I just got caught up in my thoughts,” he said.

The motorcycle turned another corner, and the Battle Shell followed out into a sweeping expanse of riverfront dotted with long docks stretching out over the water. Don slowed the vehicle again as Casey pulled into a spot between two nearby warehouses, and slid into the narrow space along with their human friend.

“Okay, guys,” Leo said, taking a deep breath. “It’s time. Let’s go.”


	71. Phone Call

“You can do this,” April told herself.

She stared down at the ringing phone in her hand, her sister’s name blazing across the tiny screen. With every ring, her heart contracted, and she wasn’t sure if it was with fear or discomfort. And she was tempted to simply let it ring until it went silent, put off the inevitable talk with her sister until another time.

But she had to talk to Robyn eventually. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t kept secrets from her sister before. She had been friends with the Turtles for a few years now, and she hadn’t breathed a single hint of their strange existence to Robyn. Casey, she had mentioned quite a few times, but not the Turtles. On the rare times when it was necessary to mention them, she just vaguely referred to them “friends” and left it at that. 

But this was different. It wasn’t just about the Turtles, but about her life as well. She was pregnant. She was going to have a child — Robyn’s nephew or niece. Her entire life was going to change, and yet she couldn’t tell her sister anything about it. 

The phone rang again, and April pressed her thumb to the answering button. She took a deep, quavering breath as she raised it to her ear, and said, “Hello — Robyn?”

“Finally!” Robyn’s voice said. “I was starting to think you weren’t home.”

“Sorry. I was in the bathroom,” April lied. “Is something wrong?”

“You tell me,” Robyn replied. “You’ve barely called me in the last six months, April!”

April’s hand trailed up over her stomach absently, as her mind flashed over the events of the past six months. She hadn’t told Robyn even the abridged version of what had happened to her during that time. What could she say? Her kidnapping and everything she had suffered were so tied up in Don’s plight that it was almost impossible to explain what had happened without mentioning him in some way.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “Things have been a little chaotic for me.”

“I’ve called you like, two times in all these months, and even when I talk to you, you just sort of go ‘uh-huh.’ What’s going on with you, April?”

“Nothing important.”

“You just said things had been chaotic.”

“I mean, nothing important for other people,” April said quickly.

“April, I can tell something is bothering you. What is it? Is it that guy Casey?”

“No, it’s not Casey,” April said quickly. “Casey and I — we’re not together anymore.”

“You broke up?” Robyn said, sounding surprised. “When did that happen?” 

“About six months ago.”

“April, this is what I’m talking about when I say you’re not talking to me. I mean, a breakup can be a big deal, and if you’re having a hard time moving on —“

“I’m really not, Robyn.”

“Then why — wait a minute!” Robyn’s voice took on a sharper, triumphant tone, as if she had come to a realization. “You’ve got someone new, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say —“

“I knew it!” Robyn crowed, loud enough that April had to distance her ear from the phone. “You’re dating somebody new already. Is that why you haven’t been talking to me? You’re busy with the new guy?”

April sighed, and passed a hand over her eyes. “All right, yes, I’m dating someone new,” she said. “But don’t tell anyone, all right? The last thing I need is for news about this to be spread all over the place.”

“Why?” Robyn said, suddenly suspicious. “He’s not — married, is he?”

“No, he’s definitely not married.”

“That’s a relief. But if he’s not married, why do you want me to keep it a secret?” Her voice reeked of suspicions that April didn’t want to consider — she was probably dreaming up an elaborate drama of illicit love, maybe with someone in the mob.

April gritted her teeth, her mind darting between different lies she could tell her sister to make her stop investigating this. She hadn’t counted on Robyn guessing that she was involved romantically with someone new, someone other than Casey, so she hadn’t formulated an imaginary suitor to talk to her about. Or a reason to keep him vague and unknown, never to be introduced to her family members no matter how much time passed.

Her fingers tightened on the phone, and she licked her lips. Maybe the best approach was to simply tell the truth — a veiled truth, but one that would be easy to remember if Robyn ever quizzed her about it. “Well, you see…” she said quietly and slowly.

“Yeah?”

“He’s… younger than me.”

“Oh, that’s not a big deal, April. A couple years isn’t a huge difference. How old is he?”

April winced. “Eighteen.” It sounded better than admitting that her lover was only seventeen — and after all, Don was only a few months from his eighteenth birthday. 

“April!”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re seriously going out with someone in high school?”

“More like college, Robyn.” Which was true — Don was more knowledgeable and skilled than most college graduates, perhaps more than anyone else April had ever met. Even Baxter Stockman, for all his corrupt genius, wasn’t as versatile and inventive as Don was, and hadn’t made so much out of so little throughout his entire life. Using whatever parts and materials he could scavenge, he could whip together brilliant new technology for himself and his brothers. 

And for all his youth and inexperience with women, he was certainly more mature than the average teenager. He was the sensible one, the level-headed one, the quietly clever one, the Turtle who grounded his brothers and kept their clashing personalities from boiling over. He could be mischievous and he could be snarky, but he never pushed anyone too far the way Mikey often did. Raph had been right — they weren’t humans, and Don was not an ordinary teenager. He was something much, much more.

Of course, it still didn’t make April feel any better about the age gap between them, and the feeling she had sometimes that Don was still too young to know what he needed or wanted. But then she saw his eyes steadily watching her, and remembered that he had silently loved her for the past few years, expecting nothing to come of his feelings. And the longer she was with her lover, the more she saw of that.

“April, this is — this is weird,” Robyn said hesitantly.

“I know,” April groaned. “I know, it’s weird. It was weird for me too — but he’s different from most guys.”

“Is it — serious?”

April’s hand drifted down over her stomach, cradling it gently. “Yes, it’s pretty serious.” She bit her lip before the words in her mind could drift down to her tongue: “He’s not human. He’s a giant mutant Turtle who also happens to be a ninja. We were both effectively raped by a street gang, and now I’m pregnant with his child.” She drew her knees up and curled her legs against the arm of the couch, letting her head droop back against the cushion. 

“Does his family know he’s dating an older woman?”

“Yes, they know. And they’re happy about us,” April said truthfully.

“Really?”

“Really. They’re — really understanding.”

Robyn made a faint, questioning sound. “And you… this is a real relationship and not just, you know, sexual?”

“Robyn!”

“It’s just that I can’t see you having much in common with an eighteen-year-old. I mean, you’ve already been to college and had jobs, and you’re way past teen stuff…”

“Well, normally I wouldn’t,” April said slowly, uncoiling veiled truths like smoke. “But he’s… different. Unusual. He’s so brilliant and ahead of other teenagers that we have a lot in common. We clicked even before I knew how he felt about me. I could talk to him all day about the things he’s working on, and — and we sometimes spend hours just building or experimenting together.” Her voice grew softer. “And he looks at me in a way no other guy ever has, Robyn. He watches me as if I were a new star and he was an astronomer who can’t look away. He’s so — so sweet and so loving…”

Her voice faded as she searched for words to describe Don’s relationship with her. Suddenly her mind filled with a memory of his head on the pillow beside hers, his mask off, his dark eyes gazing at her with such tenderness that it made her heart ache, a soft smile crossing his face. Then it shifted to a quiet evening on the sofa, sitting beside him and resting her head against his, her fingers laced over his larger ones. Quiet moments, just resting in one another’s presence.

“If you’re sure,” Robyn said slowly. “I mean, the most important thing is that you’re happy.”

“I am happy,” April said, and she meant it.

But then a quiver of nervousness ran through her, as she remembered that Don and his brothers were out hunting the Purple Dragons. And then Sarkis, hunting for her baby — another thing that she couldn’t confide in Robyn about. Little surges of tension and anguish, tainting the happiness she had found with Donatello.

She opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden sharp sensation in her abdomen made her gasp.

“April?” Robyn said, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

A kick. April looked down at her belly with wide eyes, almost sure she could see faint rippling vibrations in her flesh. She had felt flutterings of movement for the past few weeks, but nothing that anyone could really feel — nothing this powerful. The baby had just kicked her, as if chastising her for keeping its existence a secret.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she ran her hand down her stomach and gently under the curve. She almost wished her baby would kick again, as painfully powerful as the movement had been. Well, it was a mutant turtle, she reflected — Don and his brothers were stronger and more resilient than any human, so it wasn’t surprising that his child would be strong too.

“April?” Robyn said, sounding panicked. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” April said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “I just stubbed my toe — really hard.”

“You didn’t break it, did you?”

“Just bruised.” April smiled slightly.

She settled back into the cushions, her fingers stroking the spot where the baby had kicked her. As Robyn began prattling about a new job she was interviewing for, April felt the worries she had been feeling starting to slip away. Suddenly, everything felt a little better.


End file.
